


It Might Be Right

by marianhawke



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Awkward hookup slow burn, F/M, Feedback Welcome, this is my Camp NaNo project so it's a WIP, will update every week
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:53:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23479522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marianhawke/pseuds/marianhawke
Summary: Modern AU of the Dragon Age II gang. Fenris works at a refugee shelter and keeps running into this strange woman named Hawke.
Relationships: Eventual Isabela/Merrill, Fenris/Female Hawke
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, thanks for clicking onto this! It's my Camp NaNoWriMo project so I should have updates coming out pretty steadily.  
> Also, AO3 is no longer counting hits from logged-out users, so I would really appreciate any comments or kudos if you liked it! Constructive feedback is definitely welcome. Hope you enjoy!

Fenris wasn’t sure what he thought of the new volunteer at the shelter. She came in a room like a summer squall- brash, with a loud, easy laugh and a frequent grin. Her lack of height belied her large personality, and her short dark hair framed her face. She was pretty, he’d admit. But Maker, was she a handful. She even went by her last name- _Hawke_ , a name as bold as she was.

That day, she had volunteered to help babysit the residents’ children while the residents attended free medical checkups in the other room. The checkups were arranged by Fenris and administered by a rather shabby-looking blond doctor who had deep circles under his eyes. Many of the residents were former slaves from Tevinter, a country where slavery was officially banned but unofficially common among the rich rulers known as magisters. These refugees likely hadn’t had a checkup in years, if at all. The doctor came by regularly on a volunteer basis to see to new residents, which the shelter was eminently grateful for, but to Fenris there was always something _off_ about him. 

Hawke was outside playing a game with some of the children. It looked like it involved a lot of jumping, with Hawke dramatically falling several times- apparently on purpose, from the way it made the children laugh. He shook his head and turned back to the front desk where he sat, waiting to take any calls or help his coworkers with any odd jobs.

“Fenris? Come see for a second,” his boss, Lirene, called from her office. He got up from the front desk and walked into the cramped corner office. Lirene had one eye on the window, watching Hawke and the children playing.

“It looks like our other volunteer didn’t show, and for legal reasons I need more than one person out there with the kids,” she said. “Would you mind babysitting duty for tonight?”

“Of course,” Fenris said. “I do not mind.”

“Thanks,” Lirene said with a sigh. “Maker knows I need more people like you.” She turned back to her computer, where she had a budget spreadsheet open. Fenris could tell when he was being dismissed. He walked out and opened the door to the small playground area. It wasn’t fully a playground- it was more of a concrete yard with some old donated playground equipment, but it was more than the shelter could afford on its own. Some of the kids immediately ran up to him, yelling excitedly.

“Mr. Fenris! Mrs. Hawke was showing us a new game!”

“Oh? What game?” he asked with a smile.

“We’ve been doing dramatic pretend deaths,” Hawke said with a grin. “The kids attack me and I pretend to die very theatrically.”

Fenris wasn’t sure how appropriate that was for children, but at least they seemed excited.

“My name is Fenris,” he said, offering his hand. Hawke gave it a no-nonsense shake and then laughed. 

“Victoria Hawke,” she said. “I’m new to volunteering here. I’m friends with the doctor who does the medical stuff here, he’s the one who told me you guys needed more volunteers.”

“Oh, you know the doctor?” Fenris said. The man had always struck him the wrong way, but he wasn’t about to say that to Hawke.

“Yeah, Anders?” Hawke said. “He’s great, he helped my family out when my sister got in that car wreck.” She shook her head. “That’s a long story, though. It’s nice to meet you!”

She returned to playing with the kids, chasing them around the yard while they shrieked with glee. Fenris watched with amusement. She was a natural with children; he did not have that gift. He sat on a bench nearby and watched, smiling. It was good to see the children get to be children again. Especially when he himself couldn’t remember-

_No,_ he chided himself. _Not now. I won’t bring that back up again._

* * *

Hawke enjoyed playing with the kids, but once in a while she would sneak a glance at the elf seated on the bench. He had a shock of white hair and what looked like tattoos- tattoos that _glowed_. He was cute, too. Hawke considered inviting him to the Hanged Man later for drinks but thought the better of it. Varric and Isabela would probably scare him away. Hawke had to admit she was a shameless flirt, but something about this guy seemed a little… intimidating.

By the end of the night, Hawke knew she was going to be sore and possibly a little bruised from all the pratfalls she had taken that night. It was worth it, though. She had a lot of fun with the kids. _I’ll have to come back more often,_ she thought. _Well, when I’m not working_.

And when wasn’t she working these days? Living in her uncle’s apartment with her mom and brother was… not ideal, to say the least. Working a few odd jobs kept them off the streets and paid her uncle’s gambling debts. She hardly let herself hope for more. She left the shelter that night with Anders, who had given her a ride there. She tried to help the environment by carpooling- and it didn’t hurt that Anders’ car was cleaner and all-around nicer than hers.

“How did it go with the kids?” Anders asked. He always seemed so haggard that Hawke couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. Today he was looking especially gaunt chic. Hawke could tell he had been pulling a lot of all-nighters lately.

“Oh, you know. I’m considering stealing a few to keep around the house,” she said.

“I hear they frown on that,” he said with a smile. “Want to pick up fast food on the way back to Gamlen’s?”

“Maker, yes,” she sighed. “I haven’t eaten since this morning.”

“So you talked to that elf that sits at the front desk?” Anders said, opening the passenger side door of his car for her. She got in with an unladylike grunt.

“Yeah, his name is Fenris,” she said. “He’s so _mysterious_ and broody. He’s exactly my type.”

Anders smiled. He turned the car on and started backing out of the parking spot. “What’s the deal with those tattoos?” he asked, eyes on the road.

“I never asked,” Hawke said. She paused. “Did they see you… you know.”

“No,” he said shortly. “I didn’t have to use any magic this time.” They sat in silence as Anders drove into the nearest drive-through and ordered them both burgers and fries. As they ate, they chatted about their days, their friends, everything but the thing Hawke knew was troubling him. Until Hawke finally decided to bring it up.

“I’m as pro-mage-rights as anyone, but you can’t keep using it so openly,” Hawke said. “You’re just begging the templars to come swooping down on us.”

“There won’t be any swooping,” Anders said drily. “If I can use magic to help people, and I’m not doing it, isn’t that wrong?”

“You could help more people by staying outside of prison,” Hawke said. _Or worse,_ she thought with a shiver, _being made Tranquil_. Tranquil mages gave her the creeps- it was a sentence handed out to the most unrepentant of mages, something that prevented them from using their magic ever again but also stripping them of all personality and substance.

“Let’s not have this argument again,” Anders said through a mouthful of burger. “It’s late and I have work at the clinic early in the morning.”

“You really seem bent on testing the human limits of sleeplessness,” Hawke said. “Fine, I won’t bring it up again.” He drove her home in silence, focusing on the road stretching ahead of them.

As they pulled up to Hawke’s apartment, she got a text from Varric.

**9:15 pm : Hawke! I got a job for you.**

She sighed. Varric was always finding her odd jobs around Kirkwall. He also insisted on texting with full punctuation and correct grammar. He could be such an old fogie, sometimes.

Hawke got out of the car and thanked Anders before heading up the stairs to her apartment. She winced as she turned the key in the lock, knowing her mother would be there to chastise her for being out so late with ‘that boy’- although, Hawke knew her mother was secretly hoping that she’d date the handsome doctor already. Instead, it was dead silent when she walked in the apartment. Her mother Leandra was sitting on the couch, staring at the news station on the television with her brow knitted.

“What’s wrong, mum?” Hawke asked. “Did Gamlen go gambling again?” Leandra always stayed up waiting for her brother when he went out making bad decisions.

“Carver has news,” her mother said, grimacing as if she had just eaten a lemon. Just then, her brother came loping down the stairs, looking very proud of himself.

“Sister!” he said, chin turned up. “I’m joining the templars.”

The templars, the nickname for an elite unit of the police force, were tasked with tracking and policing magic use.

“You realize you live with a mage, right?” Hawke said. “What, if you turn me in do you get a promotion?”

“If you don’t do anything wrong, you won’t even have to worry about it,” Carver said angrily. Hawke shook her head and stormed upstairs to the room she (temporarily, she hoped) shared with her brother and slammed the door as if she was a teenager again. She sent a quick text off to Isabela.

**9:20pm: need a place to stay for the night**

**9:21pm: come crash on my couch. what’s wrong?**

She hurried and packed a bag with some clothes and her toothbrush when she heard someone coming up the stairs.

“Victoria?” her mother called. “We should talk about this.”

Hawke opened the door and came face to face with her mother.

“What’s there to talk about?” she said flippantly. “I’m staying with Isabela for the night.”

Her mother sighed. “The templars make good money, Carver’s just trying to help the family-“

“Maker knows someone should,” Carver said, coming up the stairs.

“So what am I, chopped liver? I’ve just been working for fun this whole time?” Hawke said. She pushed past her mother and brother and went down the stairs taking them two steps at a time, overnight bag in hand. She strode across the living room and walked out the front door, internally fuming at Carver.

It was only a few blocks to Isabela’s apartment but she drove anyway, not wanting to walk by herself at night. The neighborhood they lived in wasn’t bad, per se- realtors would say it had “character.” Hawke circled the block a couple of times, not wanting Isabela to see how upset she was at the news. She couldn’t believe Carver. Of all the jobs in the city, the templars? How could he? Knowing that Hawke was a mage, and that Bethany- well, Hawke reminded herself with a pang of grief, Bethany _was_ a mage. Just another thing for her mother to blame her for.

Isabela lived on the third floor of a run-down building next door to the Hanged Man, where she bartended most nights. She must have been waiting for Hawke because she answered the door on the first knock.

“Hawke! What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Hawke said. “Just that Carver’s joining the templars.”

“He did _what_? Come on in, you sound like you need a drink,” Isabela said, ushering Hawke inside her apartment. It was sparsely furnished and messy with clothes strewn across furniture she likely found on Craigslist. Hawke dropped her overnight bag on the floor and hugged her friend, knowing that Isabela was probably patting her pockets to find loose cash.

“So baby brother found himself a new job?” Isabela said, slumping into her couch. Hawke sat down next to her. 

“I just wish that job didn’t involve mages,” Hawke sighed. “Like, I don’t know, accounting or something.”

“Can you really see Carver doing accounting?” Isabela said with a smirk.

“No, accounting wouldn’t get mother’s attention nearly as much,” Hawke said. Isabela sat up and contemplated Hawke for a second.

“You know what? We both need a drink. We’re going to the Hanged Man, now,” Isabela said, pulling Hawke up from the couch. “Besides, Varric wants to talk to you.”

Hawke wasn’t about to argue. She really could use a drink. Together, they left the apartment and walked the block to the Hanged Man. It was a seedy little bar with a neon sign that barely worked- it always seemed to spell “Hngd Ma”, no matter how much Varric paid to fix it- and the regulars were often just as grubby as the inside of the bar. Including Hawke and her friends, of course. But it had become like a second home to Hawke ever since Varric had stopped that guy from pickpocketing her on her way home.

They opened the door to a blast of cold air and bad 80’s music. Hawke’s eyes immediately went to the bar- and the mysterious elf sitting at it. _No way,_ she thought. _Why would he be here?_

Isabela saw where her eyes went. Her eyebrows shot up.

“Ooh, who’s this?” Isabela asked. “Someone you know? Or someone you want to know? I might call dibs if you don’t.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Varric said drily from a table nearby. “Good to see you two. Hawke, I have some good news.”

“This better be a good job,” Hawke said as they sat down at his table. “The last one you sent me on was a nightmare.”

“How was I supposed to know that guy was just looking for a sugar baby?”

“I would have gone for it,” Isabela interjected.

“We know, Rivaini. Anyway, no, it’s not like last time. Bartrand might have a job for you,” Varric said.

“Might?” Hawke asked, eyebrow arched.

“You do art in your free time, right? Bartrand’s looking for a new designer at the family business.”

Hawke still wasn’t sure exactly what Varric’s family was in the business of, but she felt that it was best not to question it too closely.

“What’s the catch?” she asked with a smile.

“You have to submit a portfolio to him by the end of next week.”

Hawke groaned. “Well, that would be fantastic if I had anything I could submit. I’ll be up for ages trying to finish a portfolio. I’ll have eyebags like Anders by the end of the week.”

“I think the dark circles make him look distinguished,” Isabela said.

“Sorry about your brother, by the way,” Varric said. “Aveline told me earlier today.”

“ _Aveline_ told you before I found out?” Hawke said.

“She’s the police captain,” he said, hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Carver went to her to see about getting recruited for the templars.”

“Maker, I’m going to kill Aveline,” Hawke said with a sigh. A waitress passed by and Isabela flagged her down.

“A round of shots for the table,” she said.

“I’m at work, Rivaini. I can’t do shots,” Varric said.

“I’ll do one for you,” Hawke said. She kept stealing glances at the elf- Fenris- sitting at the bar, and once she thought she caught him looking back at her.

* * *

Fenris was taken aback when he saw Hawke walk in the bar. Especially considering she was walking in with a dark-skinned woman he had seen around his apartment complex before. He briefly considered walking up to her and her friends, but thought better of it. _Better not to put down any roots here_ , he thought. _I am only here temporarily._ Better to spend his paycheck drinking himself into oblivion and then walk home, daring anyone around to try to mug him. Then wake up late, head to the shelter for the afternoon-evening shift, rinse and repeat.

He glanced over at Hawke. She seemed to be telling a very animated story that had the other woman laughing loudly. Both seemed to be pretty inebriated. Of course, so was he, but maybe he should accompany them home. He lived in the same building, after all.

It was then that there was a brief shriek followed by a loud crashing noise. He was up immediately, his instincts preparing him for a fight, when he heard loud laughter coming from Hawke’s table. The woman she was with had tipped her stool over and fallen and seemed mostly uninjured, judging by the way she was snickering. He shook his head and got up to use the bathroom, passing by Hawke helping her friend up. They made brief eye contact but didn’t acknowledge each other. The Hanged Man only had two unisex stalls for bathrooms, so he went in one and closed the door. Unsurprisingly, he heard Hawke and her friend, still giggling and helping each other walk, go into the other stall. Were they together? _Don’t be disappointed,_ he chided himself. 

“Shhh, Isabela, let me fix this cut real quick,” Hawke said. “You won’t even know it was there.”

“And then, more shots!” the other woman- Isabela?- said loudly. They giggled some more. Then, the unmistakable smell of lyrium flooded his nose, and a bright light shone under the stall door. Then it was done as quick as it happened.

His heart was pounding in his ears. The smell of lyrium made him think of- _No,_ he thought, _keep it together. Not here_. Had she just used healing magic? In a crowded bar? Was she asking for the templars to find her?

Fenris shuddered from that irrepressible smell of magic and quickly composed himself. He left the stall and washed his hands, looking around to see if there was anyone else who had seen Hawke use magic. Nobody was around the bathroom, probably due to its overall griminess; nobody seemed to be surprised or show any inkling of a clue about what just happened.

Hawke and Isabela came out of the stall, still giggling and leaning on each other. Then they saw Fenris and stopped suddenly. Fenris quickly walked out of the bathroom, unsure what to do. Should he call the templars? She had done magic in public; it seemed the right thing to do. But then, she had just used healing magic on her friend in the confines of a bathroom.

_Magic, overall, is to be distrusted_ , he reminded himself, shuddering again. He paid his tab and left in a hurry, resolving to decide on a course of action after he had sobered up the next morning.

* * *

Even as drunk as Hawke was, she knew that had been a bad idea. And Maker, Fenris had probably seen her do it, too. She sobered up quickly thinking about all the possibilities. And she had a templar for a brother now. _I’m so screwed_ , she thought, pulling her hands through her short hair. _He’s going to turn me in. Maker’s breath, I’ve gotten myself in way too deep this time._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and Fenris get to know each other.

Hawke woke up on Isabela’s couch with a groan and facepalmed. _I’m such an idiot when I’m drunk_ , she thought. _Well, I’m an idiot all the time. I’m just especially an idiot when I’m drunk._ She couldn’t believe she had used magic in a public place like that and with that elf Fenris in the next stall over! _I might as well have served myself up to the templars on a silver platter_ , she thought. On top of that, she had a pounding headache building.

Isabela was still fast asleep in the other room, snoring away without a care in the world. Her roommate, a graduate student named Merrill, was already up and making tea.

“Hello Hawke!” Merrill said cheerfully. “Would you like something for breakfast or some tea?”

The thought of breakfast food made Hawke’s stomach turn.

“No thank you, I feel like I’ve been hit by a steamroller at the moment,” Hawke said.

“Oh, that’s not good,” Merrill said. “Do you need some medicine or anything?”

“Not unless you have something that can cure a hangover.” Hawke got up and pushed off the flimsy blanket she had been sleeping under. She had several missed calls from her mother. _And the day was starting off so well,_ she thought wryly.

She walked outside the apartment and dialed her mother, who picked up on the first ring.

“Victoria! Where are you?”

“I told you, mum, I stayed at Isabela’s.”

“It was incredibly immature of you to go running out like that, and you’ve upset your brother! Now he’s trying to move out.”

“Good, I’d love my own room.”

“Victoria, this is hardly the time for sarcasm.”

“I wasn’t kidding. Let the kid move out, mum, he’s an adult with a job now.” There was a long pause at the other end of the line.

“This wouldn’t have happened if Bethany was here.”

“Three grown siblings sharing a room would have been a little cramped.”

“Maker’s breath. Just come home soon.” And a _click_ followed as her mother hung up. Hawke sighed. Another day in paradise. She went back into Isabela’s apartment, brushed her teeth, and left with her overnight bag before Isabela could wake up. It was time to get some work done, and by “get work done,” she meant driving strangers around the city for a meager hourly pay plus tips.

She ducked into her car and pulled up the rideshare app she drove with. It looked like someone from the same complex was looking for a ride. _Convenient_ , she thought, accepting the ride. She regretted it as soon as she saw who it was for, that white-haired elf with the strange tattoos. He came loping down the stairs, phone in hand. _Of all people, of course it would be him_ , she thought. After all, she had no way of knowing he hadn’t turned her in to the templars already.

He seemed shocked to see her driving and recoiled from the car, hand on the door. Still, he climbed into the backseat, looking uncomfortable.

“Fenris, right?” Hawke said, determined to keep the conversation light. “I’ve been seeing you everywhere, lately.” He simply nodded. She started up the car and began driving to his destination. Was she sweating? Could he tell how nervous she was?

“So how did you start working at the shelter?” she asked.

“That is a long story,” he said, his eyes not quite meeting hers. “I was… new in town, and Lirene took pity on me, I suppose.”

“Where are you from originally?” she asked.

“Tevinter,” he said. He seemed to grow even more uncomfortable at this line of questioning. She dropped it, not wanting to earn herself a bad rating. _Maybe he didn’t see anything,_ she thought.

“So… ah… when we ran into you in the bathroom last night…” she began, internally cursing herself. _Why am I even bringing it up?_ She thought. “Did you, ah, notice anything?”

“Notice anything?” he said, avoiding meeting her eyes in the rearview mirror now.

“Anything… unusual?”

“No,” he said, his mouth twisting into a grimace. “I saw nothing.”

They lapsed into silence, ignoring each other for the rest of the ride. When Hawke reached the shelter, he started to get out of the car, looking relieved. He stopped for a second, poised with the door open.

“You should know…” he began, then shook his head as if trying to think of the right words. “Magic is dangerous, Hawke. I will not turn you in, but someone else might not do the same.”

She still had a pounding headache, but her mind flooded with relief. She nodded.

“Thank you,” she said. He met her eyes in the rearview mirror for a brief minute before getting out of the car and walking up to the shelter’s entrance. Hawke sighed and leaned her head back on the headrest. _Time to get back to work_ , she reminded herself. _Gamlen’s gambling habit won’t pay for itself_. 

She tapped the rideshare app and accepted her next ride. As she drove people around that day, she couldn’t help but think about what Fenris said. Did he mean it when he said he wouldn’t turn her in? He seemed like an honest guy, from what Hawke could tell; he worked at a refugee shelter, for the Maker’s sake. She wanted to trust him. But his words, that magic is dangerous, and his evasiveness when she asked about his past stuck in her head. He seemed like he had some dark past that he wasn’t keen on sharing. _Exactly my type_ , Hawke thought with a wry smile. She wanted to find out more, and she knew she’d be back volunteering at the shelter soon.

* * *

Feeling confused, Fenris walked up to the shelter’s entrance. The shelter was a nice building for the area, painted in a sunny yellow color with a small garden in the front yard. Its cheery aesthetic couldn’t distract him from his troubling thoughts, however. All he could think about as he walked into the building and clocked in was the mage, Hawke. He had promised her he wouldn’t turn her in, and he intended to keep that promise. Still… he couldn’t help but wonder whether he was making the right choice.

As soon as he settled in, Lirene called him into her office. Her tone suggested something was wrong. He walked in with a sense of foreboding.

As always, she spoke plainly. “The shelter is losing funding soon,” Lirene said. “Our grant application this year wasn’t renewed. We need to raise money, and fast.”

“Fundraising is not my specialty,” Fenris said. “I would like to help, though.”

Lirene massaged her temples and sighed. “We’ll have to make a massive effort to raise enough to support all of our current residents, not to mention new ones. Maker help me, but I’ll have to schmooze all the rich Kirkwallers I can.”

“What can I do?” Fenris asked. 

“Nothing right now. We’ll need plenty of volunteers, so maybe start putting some ads out. Actually,” she said with another sigh, “our ad campaign is pretty out-of-date. We’ll need a volunteer with some design experience to draw us up a new one.” She rifled through some papers before grabbing one. “There!” she said. “I knew one of the volunteers marked down that they had design experience!” She handed the application to Fenris. “Call her and see if she’s willing to do some design work for free,” Lirene said. “I mean, don’t put it that way, but that’s essentially what we need.”

He looked down at the name on the paper and almost groaned. Of course, it was Hawke.

* * *

Hawke was in between riders when her phone rang. An unknown number. She almost declined it, but then decided to pick up on the fourth ring.

“Hello, Hawke speaking,” she said.

“Hawke? This is Fenris from the shelter.” Her heart almost jumped into her throat. Why was he calling her? Was this a weird ploy for him to say, ha-ha, sorry, I called the templars on you?

“You have design experience, correct?” he asked.

“Um… yes?” Hawke said.

“The shelter needs someone to design an ad campaign.” He paused. “It is unpaid.”

Well, she needed to expand her portfolio anyway. “Sure,” she said. “I’d love to.”

“Can you come by the shelter later today to talk to Lirene?”

“I can head there now,” she said, shifting her car out of park.

* * *

Fenris watched Hawke work in the next room, at the long table they used for dinners with the residents. She had her laptop open and her brow was furrowed. She looked intently at her work, occasionally mumbling to herself. It was hard to believe this was the same woman who had gotten raucously drunk the night before and the same woman who had used magic in a public place.

He had to admit, she looked more beautiful while she was working; she had this intensity that he admired. Not that he intended to act on those feelings, of course. _Do not put down any roots here_ , he reminded himself. He got up to get his lunch from the kitchen when a thought struck him.

“Hawke, have you eaten yet?” he asked.

She looked up, surprised at the question. “No, I haven’t,” she admitted. “Is there any fast food places nearby?”

“No, the nearest food is out of walking distance,” he said. “You can share my lunch, if you like. I brought sandwiches.” Usually he ate two for lunch, but today he could make an exception.

“Oh no, I can’t take your food,” Hawke protested.

“It is no trouble,” Fenris said. He got up and walked to the kitchen, wondering to himself why he was offering to share his lunch with this woman. He grabbed his lunch bag and walked into the room where Hawke was working and passed her one of his sandwiches. Her eyebrows shot up.

“Thank you,” she said, surprised. “For everything, I mean.”

He shook his head. “I do not mind.” And for once, he found that he didn’t.

“You know, you should come by the Hanged Man and hang out with my friends and I sometime,” Hawke said, biting into the sandwich. She talked as she chewed. “Varric and Isabela would like you. Isabela might like you a little too much, if you catch my drift.”

“Isabela… that is the woman you were with last night?” he asked. “So you two are not…”

“Oh, Maker, you thought we were dating?” Hawke said with a laugh. “No, not at all! I mean, I love Isabela, but only in a semi-homo way.”

Fenris found himself chuckling. He wanted to know more about Hawke and her friends.

“You asked earlier where I’m from,” he said. “So, are you from Kirkwall?”

She shook her head. “Nope. Fereldan for life. I miss the dirt and the dog smells.”

“Do you really?” he asked.

“No,” she said with a laugh. “I get plenty of dog smells at home thanks to my mabari.” She finished the sandwich and brushed the crumbs off of the table. “Well, I should get back to work,” she said. “Time waits for no man. Or woman. Look, we’ll probably be at the Hanged Man tonight if you want to stop by.”

Fenris found himself nodding. “I would like that,” he admitted. She smiled at him, a broad grin that lit up her face.

“Great! I’ll make sure to tell Isabela not to hit on you too much. Don’t want to scare you away,” she joked. “Unless you’re into that!”

He laughed again. It felt good to be laughing for once. Hawke smiled back and returned to her work, brow knitted again. Fenris got up and returned to his station at the front desk.

That night, he walked to the Hanged Man with trepidation. He didn’t know what Hawke and her friends were like, whether they all had personalities as big as hers. He opened the bar door, resolving to himself that he would leave if it was too awkward, but he was immediately greeted with a shout from Hawke.

“Hey, it’s my new best friend! Come sit down!”

She was hanging out with a dwarf who was showing off his hirsute chest and the woman from last night who was wearing what could barely be described as clothing. They looked an odd bunch, but Fenris joined them anyway. He looked as odd as any of them, he supposed.

“Guys, this is the guy from the shelter I was talking about! Meet Fenris,” Hawke said, grinning broadly.

“Ooh, hello Fenris,” the alluring woman said, looking him up and down.

“This is Varric and this is Isabela,” Hawke said, gesturing to them. “Varric owns the bar, and Isabela works here. Sometimes.”

“I get paid to make drinks and have men hit on me,” Isabela said. “It’s the dream.”

“So, Fenris, what’s your drink? Your first one’s on me,” Varric said.

“What? You never buy my drinks,” Hawke protested.

“This is his first time here,” Varric said. “We don’t want to scare him off.”

“This place smells of vomit and desperation,” Fenris said. “I imagine that would scare anyone off.”

“And it’s only five in the afternoon!” Hawke said. “That’s a new record, Varric.”

“I do my best,” Varric said. “Got to keep the ambiance right.”

“I will take you up on that free drink,” Fenris said. “A red wine, please.”

“Classy,” Isabela said. “I like my men with a bit of sophistication.” Hawke snorted.

“No you don’t,” Hawke said at the same time Varric said “Since when?” Fenris smirked. Varric went behind the bar to grab their drinks. 

“Anyway, I’m designing an ad campaign for the shelter now,” Hawke said, seemingly continuing a previous conversation. “So as you can see, they’ve gotten truly desperate.”

“Don’t put yourself down, Hawke,” Isabela said. “You do good work.”

“I have seen what you’ve worked on so far,” Fenris said. “It is very good.” Hawke smiled at him then in a way that made his chest constrict. (Just add here a sentence saying their conversations continued with sharing daily news, joking, stories, etc. Or maybe end it with Varric saying something like, “So Fenris, has Hawke shared to you the story of how she…”)

There was something oddly endearing about Hawke’s friends. They seemed so open and all of them had very vivid personalities (to put it nicely). He ended up returning to the bar the next night, and the night after that. Every day he would chide himself for starting to put down roots in Kirkwall, but every night he would find himself gravitating back towards the Hanged Man.

* * *

Hawke rode home from the bar in the back of an Uber one night, starting to sober up and just wanting to go to bed without drama from Carver. She went up the stairs to their apartment, leaning heavily on the railing, as the stairs were swimming in her eyes.

Finally, she staggered up to the apartment and opened the door to Leandra and Gamlen arguing. “I mean really, Gamlen, again? You just got paid and you’ve already spent it?” Leandra said. “You couldn’t have bought groceries or something first?”

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business,” Gamlen said. Hawke walked right past them and they barely registered her. She continued on up the next set of stairs, still reeling from her buzz. She finally made it to her room and flopped onto the twin bed.

“Gone out drinking again, have you?” Carver asked from the opposite twin bed.

“Stayed home again, have you?” Hawke said.

“What am I supposed to do, go out with you and your hoodrat friends? All of you have a drinking problem and way too much time on your hands.”

“I’ll concede the drinking problem,” Hawke said, “but I regret to inform you that I do not have too much time on my hands. I work all the time.”

“Driving people around barely counts,” Carver said.

“Oh, like being a templar is much better?” Hawke said, the ceiling spinning.

“It’s a steady career doing something good,” Carver said, clearly very proud of himself.

“Doing good? Oppressing mages is doing good?” Hawke said, starting to get angry now.

“It’s not _oppression_. Mages just need supervision to make sure none become abominations.”

“You’re an abomination,” she mumbled. _Not my best line_ , she thought, cringing. “What about all those times Dad used healing magic on you as a kid? He should have been imprisoned for that?”

“Don’t use Dad against me,” Carver said, almost yelling at this point. Hawke groaned and pulled the pillow over her face, wanting the conversation to be over. _Maker, I need to move out as soon as possible_ , she thought.

She must have fallen asleep, because she woke up the next morning disoriented and hungover. Carver was gone already. _Probably at templar training_ , Hawke thought bitterly. She decided to head to the shelter and continue working on her portfolio, Carver be damned. And maybe while she was there, she could look at cheap rooms for rent in the area. _I can’t keep living like this_ , she thought.

Hawke was rather proud of herself. She was putting together a decent portfolio, considering the time restraint. The donation ad campaign for the shelter had led to a few design projects that she was happy with. Hopefully it would be enough for Bartrand. And hopefully, that job would pay enough to eventually help them move out of Lowtown.

Hawke knew the family had owned a nice house once in Hightown, the old-money part of the city, but that seemed out of her reach unless she had some rich uncles she didn’t know about. No, the family money had been slowly whittled away by Gamlen for years before they arrived in Kirkwall, unfortunately.

She spent her free hours working at the shelter when she wasn’t driving people around or working her second job as a waitress at one of Varric’s restaurants. She and Fenris had begun talking more often than not while she was at the shelter; it slowed down her work, but it was nice to have a friend at the shelter. He had started coming to the Hanged Man most nights, too, which surprised her. He seemed more like a lone-wolf kind of guy at first. She appreciated his company, as he had a dry sense of humor that occasionally came out, and he frequently lost to her at cards. Of course, it didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes.

And then, one night, it was just them. Isabela was on a date, and Varric, Aveline, and Anders were swamped with work. They sat at their usual table, things a little tense as they grappled for something to talk about.

“So how are things at the shelter?” Hawke asked, downing a shot.

“Aside from the funding and possible loss of my job,” he said drily, “things are good.”

“I should come by and volunteer more often,” Hawke said.

“You might put me out of a job if you come by too often,” Fenris said with a wry smile. “Making rent is difficult enough as it is.”

“Speaking of, Maker knows I need to move out and find my own place. My family is doing their best to make me want to tear my hair out,” Hawke said. “But all the good apartments are married or gay.” He chuckled.

“How are things with your brother?” Fenris asked. 

“Not good,” Hawke said. “We still share a room for now, which is tense, for obvious reasons. My mother still won’t speak to me. I’ve considered permanently crashing on Isabela’s couch, but I’m not sure I can handle what goes on in that apartment.”

“You know, come to think of it…I could use a roommate,” Fenris said. Was he really offering to share an apartment with Hawke? Was that even wise? “Temporarily, of course,” he added hastily. Well, he did need help with rent, and Hawke needed a place to stay.

“Of course,” Hawke repeated, thinking about the offer. It was tempting, she had to admit. She imagined Fenris was probably a good roommate. And not sharing a room with her brother anymore sounded amazing.

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer,” Hawke said. “You live in Isabela’s complex, right?”

“Right,” he said.

They lapsed into silence for a moment. Hawke, warmed by the alcohol, resolved to ask Fenris about his past. Now they were going to be roommates, right?

“So…” she started. “How did you get those tattoos?”

“It was not willingly,” he said, point-blank. Maybe he was feeling the alcohol too. “Where I came from, Tevinter…” He hesitated. “I was a slave,” he said in a low voice.

“Oh,” Hawke said, for once speechless. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Fenris said. “It was not your fault. Besides, I escaped that life.”

“Is that how you ended up working for the shelter?” she asked. He nodded and downed another shot.

“I was caught by some police squatting in an abandoned house that belonged to my master. They took pity on me, or I intimidated them, and they referred me to the shelter where I met Lirene.”

“And she offered you a job?”

“Not quite,” he said with a smile. “They needed volunteers to man the front desk, so I did, and then eventually Lirene decided to start paying me. It was the only work I could find.”

“So you escaped?” she asked, curious. “Are you still in danger?”

“Yes,” he said. “My former master is likely hunting for me.”

“Well, he’d have to go through me first,” she said with a broad grin. The declaration made Fenris chuckle.

“I suppose he’d find a formidable foe indeed,” he said. “Judging by how those children managed to take you down so easily the other day.”

“I’m a vaudeville comedian at heart,” she said with a smile. “I have a soft spot for people smaller than me. Of which there aren’t many.”

It was true, she was short, even smaller than Fenris. Fenris chuckled again.

“So the tattoos,” she asked, still curious, “why do they glow?”

“They are lyrium,” he said. “It was quite expensive for my mas… Danarius to procure. I was an investment,” he said wryly.

“Well, they look good,” Hawke said. Maker, she was definitely feeling the alcohol. Fenris smiled.

“I’m glad to see they still have some use,” he said.

“So are you serious? Do you want to be roommates?” she asked.

“I have an extra room, and I could use the help with rent,” he said. “I would not mind. I don’t know how long I will stay in Kirkwall, though.”

“You might be leaving?” Hawke asked, feeling slightly disappointed.

“Danarius could try and find me at any minute,” he said. “It would be… unwise to stay in one place for too long.”

“Or you could stay and tell him to go screw himself,” Hawke said. “Not literally, of course. Unless you really want to.”

Fenris smiled. “A tempting offer,” he said. “So you would like to move in?”

“And get away from my family? Yes, absolutely, at the first possible chance. And no, it’s not just the alcohol talking.”

“It isn’t furnished.”

“I’ll find a mattress on the side of the road and call it a day.” Fenris’ mouth quirked up into a smile at Hawke in a way that made her heart melt. _Oh Maker, don’t tell me I’m catching feelings for my new roommate,_ she thought.

The moving process was surprisingly easy. Isabela and Varric helped Hawke find the essentials for her new room. and helped her move the few boxes of her possessions from Gamlen’s apartment. Where they procured the mattress from, she didn’t want to know. Carver was still not speaking to her and ignored them as they went about moving. Leandra fretted about, worrying about her new roommate. “You’re moving in with a man? And you barely know him?” and other such motherly concerns.

Hawke drove them to the new apartment with a sense of trepidation. She had lived with her family for her whole life; this would be her first time striking out on her own, as it were. And with a new friend for a roommate. She wasn’t sure what to expect.

Isabela knew what she expected. “You’re both attractive, why don’t you just bang already?” she’d asked, multiple times. Hawke was no stranger to a one-night stand, but she enjoyed the tentative friendship they’d started. She didn’t want to ruin anything with sex. Besides, she was pretty sure Fenris didn’t see her in that way. She was half-convinced he was gay.

It took less than an hour to move all of her possessions into her new room, supervised by her mabari, Barkspawn. Afterwards, the crew went down to the Hanged Man. Isabela invited her roommate, Merrill, too, but she decided she had too much work to do.

“She’s so _cute_ ,” Isabela later lamented over a fruity drink at their usual table.

“So ask her out, Rivaini,” Varric said. Isabela shook her head.

“No, I can’t. We’re _roommates_.”

“And?” Varric asked. Hawke surreptitiously looked at Fenris to see his reaction. His face was as inscrutable as always as he sipped his wine.

“We can’t date because we already live together,” Isabela said. “That breaks, like, so many of my rules.”

“Your rules?” Hawke asked with an arched eyebrow. Isabela smiled.

“Oh, I’m so glad you asked!” she said. “My rules are to not catch feelings and _never_ move in with a person again.”

“Again?” Hawke asked.

“I was married for a couple of years,” Isabela said. Hawke almost spit her beer out.

“What? When was this?” she asked, incredulous.

“When I was nineteen,” Isabela said. “It was arranged by my mother.”

“I find it hard to imagine you married,” Fenris said drily.

“Oh, I divorced him two years later and had a passionate affair with the divorce lawyer,” she said, downing her drink with a swift motion. “But that’s all behind me now. Anyway, as I said, I don’t move in with people I date.”

“So how’s it going at the shelter, Fenris?” Varric asked.

“Not good,” Fenris replied. “We will be losing our main grant soon and have to come up with more money. Hawke helped design an online ad campaign to try to get donations, but we still have to come up with money to put the campaign online. Meanwhile, we can’t accept any new residents for the moment because we’re unsure whether we’ll be able to stay open.” He gripped his bottle tightly, looking down as he talked so that his companions couldn’t see how affected he was by this.

“That’s terrible,” Isabela sympathized.

“Any ideas for new donors?” Varric asked. Fenris shrugged.

“That is above my pay grade,” he said. “I answer phones.”

“You do so much more than answer phones,” Hawke interjected. “You help do new resident intake and way more. Lirene really relies on you.” Fenris smiled at her, and she smiled back.

“Ugh, you two need to just do it already and get it out of your systems,” Isabela complained, then ordered another drink. Fenris and Hawke both chuckled, but Hawke could tell her ears were red. Was she that obvious? Not that she was really catching feelings, of course; it was just a mild crush and would pass. So she told herself. Besides, not only were they roommates, he was probably gay. Nothing was going to happen.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke makes Fenris pancakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a short chapter but I hope y'all enjoy!! Chapter Four is going to be much longer (and more interesting.... no spoilers!)

Hawke slung her backpack over her shoulder and walked into the revolving door. All she could see were clean, sleek surfaces and people wearing business-like attire. Not her crowd at all. She steeled herself then walked up to the elevators. _You’re just bringing him the flash drive_ , she told herself. _You’re not proposing marriage. You’ve got this._

She walked up to the next available elevator and punched the button for the 20th floor. Her hands were growing sweatier by the second. She wiped them on her slacks. _Keep it together_ , she thought.

Finally, the elevator dinged and opened onto the 20th floor. Hawke didn’t know what she had expected, but it was a regular office space full of cubicles. She walked up to the front desk.

“Hello, I’m looking for Bartrand?” she asked hesitantly. The lady at the front desk looked her up and down before pressing a button on the intercom.

“Mr. Tethras? Someone is here for you,” she said, still looking at Hawke with a touch of disdain. Hawke was suddenly aware of how shabby she probably looked in her secondhand blouse and slacks.

“You can have a seat over there,” the lady at the front desk said, gesturing to a seating area right next to the front door. Hawke sat down in one of the chairs, putting her backpack on her lap. _They must really not like visitors,_ she thought, _considering how uncomfortable these chairs are_. She waited for what felt like a long time before Bartrand finally made his appearance. She didn’t see the family resemblance, aside from the obvious fact that they were both dwarves.

“You must be the Hawke that my brother’s been going on about!” Bartrand said, shaking her hand vigorously. “You came by to drop off your portfolio, right?”

“No, I’m just sampling your hospitality,” Hawke quipped, internally slapping herself. _Is this really the best time?_ She thought. “Yes, I, uh, have the flash drive right here,” she said, digging in her backpack. She handed it over to him. Bartrand immediately took it then left walked back to his office without a goodbye.

“You can leave,” the front desk lady said. Hawke wanted to make another sarcastic comment, but decided not to. _Ideally I’ll be working here soon,_ she thought. _Better not make a bad impression._ She walked back to the elevators. _Well, that was anticlimactic,_ she thought.

On the drive home, all she could think about was whether Bartrand had looked at her portfolio yet. Her phone rang as she pulled up to her new apartment. It was an unknown number. She picked up on the second ring, half expecting it to be another spam call.

“Hawke? This is Bartrand. You got the job,” he said. “Can you start Monday?” Hawke fist-pumped a couple of times in her car before responding.

“Yes, absolutely! I’ll be there.” Bartrand hung up abruptly, apparently not one for social niceties. Hawke fist-pumped again.

“Fuck yeah!” she yelled. She got out of the car and slung her backpack back over her shoulder, then took the steps up to the apartment two at a time.

She barged in the door and saw Fenris making something in the kitchen.

“I got the job!” she yelled. Fenris smiled.

“Congratulations,” he said. “Seems like you want to announce it to the whole complex.”

“Hell yeah I do! Actually, speaking of.” She took out her phone and dialed Isabela. 

“What’s up, love?” Isabela asked.

“Are you home?” Hawke asked.

“Yes, why?”

Hawke immediately went out the door and headed straight for Isabela’s apartment on the other side of the complex. She barged in the door there.

“I got the job!” she yelled, throwing her hands up. Isabela squealed and hugged Hawke.

“That’s great news! I’ll have to pickpocket you more often now that you’ll be making more money.”

“One of these days I’ll catch you doing it,” Hawke said with a laugh.

“We’ll have to go out for drinks tonight,” Isabela said.

“We go out for drinks every night.”

“No, this time we’ll make it special. Get dressed up tonight and meet me at my apartment.”

“Dressed up?” Hawke said wryly. “Are we talking fancy or slutty, exactly?”

“Ooh, slutty. Go all out.”

Hawke laughed. “I take that as a challenge.”

* * *

Hawke looked at herself in her full-length mirror. The little black dress she was wearing clung tightly to her non-existent curves. She frowned and turned around, trying to decide whether she should change or not. She had been waiting for an excuse to wear this dress; it was too short to be professional and too slutty to be everyday wear. Well, for anyone except Isabela.

She sucked in and tried to imagine what she would look like with a flat stomach. _No,_ she chided herself, _I’m hot as hell even with a gut._ She put on her going-out heels and walked out of her room, colliding with Fenris on the way out.

“Oh, sorry!” she said. Fenris just stared at her for a second, his green eyes wide. “Oh, yeah, I’m going out with Isabela tonight,” she said sheepishly. With the heels, she was about the same height as Fenris.

“You look very nice,” Fenris said, extricating himself from the center of the collision. He stared at her for another second before retreating to his room.

_Well, that was awkward_ , Hawke thought with an internal groan. _Hawkeward. No, that pun was terrible._ She left the apartment and headed for Isabela’s.

Isabela was waiting for her when she got there, and she was dressed to the nines. Only if the nines dressed in only the barest of coverings. _More like dressed to the ones_ , Hawke thought. Isabela was wearing a red sheath dress with cutouts nearly everywhere except the most important parts.

“Let’s go out and get schwasted!” Isabela crowed, grabbing Hawke’s hand. Hawke laughed.

In the rideshare on the way to their destination (wherever that may be; Hawke still had no idea where Isabela was taking her) Isabela pulled a couple of mini bottles of liquor from somewhere in her dress and passed one to Hawke.

“It’s whiskey,” she said with a wink. They clinked their bottles together in a toast and downed them.

As they pulled up to their destination, Hawke could see it was a club in Hightown. There was a line to get in that stretched all the way down the block. Hawke groaned.

“We’re gonna be waiting to get in all night,” she said. Isabela winked at her.

“Don’t worry, sweet, I know people.” Isabela walked up to the bouncer, whispered something in his ear, then beckoned for Hawke to follow her into the club.

Hawke could hear the pumping music from outside of the club. Walking in, it was even louder; she could almost feel the beat vibrating the floor beneath her. Isabela grabbed her hand and led her to the bar, where she found them both seats and ordered shots.

“What is this place?” Hawke shouted into her friend’s ear.

“What?”

“WHAT IS THIS PLACE?”

“Oh! It’s the newest club in Hightown. A guy took me here the other night trying to impress me.”

“Did it work?”

“Yes, but only a little.”

Once the shots were served, they clinked their glasses together again and then drank them in a smooth motion. Isabela pulled on her hand again, this time to head out onto the dancefloor. Hawke shook her head.

“Have you seen me dance before? No? Well there’s a good reason for that,” she said to Isabela. “You go ahead, I’ll hang out at the bar.”

Hawke ordered her customary beer and settled in at the bar. She looked around to see who else was there. The crowd was very different from the Hanged Man; these looked like businessmen and women, not the ragtag crew that filtered in and out of the Hanged Man.

“So, what are you drinking?” an elf with an Antivan accent asked from behind her. She whirled around, surprised, then showed him her beer.

“Not one for mixed drinks, I take it?” the man said. “The name’s Zevran.”

“Hawke,” she said, sipping her beer with a smile. Zevran was good-looking, there was no denying it. He had long blonde hair tied back in a ponytail and a strange tattoo on one side of his face.

Just then, Isabela came up to her squealing.

“ _Zevran!_ Oh, I’ve missed you!” she yelled, grabbing him into a hug. “Hawke, this is the lawyer who helped me in my divorce!”

“Guilty as charged,” Zevran said with a smile. “Those were some good times. I was just talking to your friend here- Hawke, was it? What an interesting name.”

“Oh, you old flirt,” Isabela said with a laugh. “Come dance with me.” She pulled Zevran into the fray and they soon began a dance that could only be described as some Antivan mating ritual. Hawke finished her beer and ordered another. _Screw it_ , she thought, _I’ll go dance._ She took her drink and joined them on the dance floor, much to Isabela’s delight, judging by the way Isabela was dancing on her.

Fenris had resolved to slowly get drunk on red wine at home that night whether Hawke was home or not. Luckily, she wasn’t, so he didn’t have to answer any questions about why he was drinking alone.

Lately he had been having dreams- flashes of something he barely remembered, flashes of a small redheaded girl and a taller woman whose face he never saw. This was… disconcerting to him, to say the least. So he drank.

Until Hawke got home, stumbling and being held up by Isabela, both giggling. Isabela was with some strange elf with a tattoo on the side of his face.

“I take it you had fun?” Fenris said.

“Oh, I’m still having fun,” Isabela purred. “Hawke’s pretty sloshed, though, so looks like you’re on vomit duty for the night. Bye!” With that, she waltzed out with the elf.

Fenris prodded Hawke, who was laying prone on the couch, nearly insensate to anything going on around her.

“You’re so _cute_ ,” Hawke said, booping him on the nose. He was taken aback by the sudden touch.

“You are very drunk,” he said. Not that he could say anything; he was well on the way to inebriation himself.

“You wanna know something?” Hawke slurred. “My sister died last year.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” Fenris said.

“And- and- my mom blamed _me_ for it,” Hawke continued, raising a hand to point at Fenris as she spoke. “Just because- because I was the one driving. Like I could have done something about it.” She sighed and rolled over on the couch. “Okay, time for a nap-nap,” she said in a singsong voice. Fenris shook his head but grabbed a blanket from the other couch and carefully laid it over the now-sleeping Hawke. He paused for a moment, then grabbed a nearby trashcan and put it by her head. Just in case.

* * *

Hawke woke up with a pulsating headache and a terrible taste in her mouth. _That’s it,_ she thought (not for the first time), _I’m quitting drinking after this_. She sat up and realized she had passed out on the couch the night before, still in the dress she had been wearing last night. And so had Fenris, apparently. He was on the other couch still asleep with a wine bottle on the floor beside him.

She got up, trying to make as little noise as possible, and went to the kitchen to make breakfast for the both of them as a sort of apology for being a bad roommate the night before. On her way into the kitchen, she was struck by how bare Fenris kept the place. He owned only the cheapest bare essentials. He seemed like he was constantly ready to pack up and leave at a moment’s notice. The only clutter came from Hawke herself, who had a habit of leaving rooms looking like a bomb had gone off, with clothes and books and dishes strewn everywhere. She grabbed a pan at random from a cabinet and started mixing up the ingredients for pancakes- a recipe her father had made sure she knew by heart.

The thought of her father’s pancakes made her heart ache with grief. She remembered waking up to plates of pancakes covered in butter and syrup, sometimes studded with chocolate chips on a special occasion, and her father beaming as they ate. _I wish he was here_ , she thought as she flipped a pancake. _He’d know what to do about Carver and everything._

The smell of pancakes must have woken Fenris up because he came into the kitchen yawning a few minutes before they were done.

“I’m making enough for both of us,” Hawke said, “as an apology for last night. I’m sorry I got drunk and super personal last night.”

“It was no problem,” Fenris said. He was silent for a second, and then- “What are you making?”

“Pancakes?” she said, questioning. “Have you never had pancakes?” He shook his head. He hovered at a slight distance, watching her cook with curiosity and a tinge of surprise.

“Slaves were not permitted such… excesses,” he said drily.

“Hoo boy, you’re in for a good time. Here, go sit down on the couch, I’ll bring you some in a minute.” He did so obligingly while she finished cooking, watching her from the couch with an odd look in his eyes. Once they were done, she brought him a plate heaping with pancakes and dripping with syrup.

“Here, take it as a sign of gratitude for not letting me die last night,” she said. Fenris’ mouth quirked up into a smile.

“If you died, who would help me with the rent?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m sure plenty of people would be chomping at the bit to help the mysterious elf with the mysterious tattoos. Isabela is, for sure.” Fenris chuckled, then cut into his pancakes and took a hesitant bite before immediately going in for more.

“Was I right or was I right? Damn, now I need some.” Almost as soon as she stacked up her own plate, Fenris’ was empty. She shook her head. The man ate like someone who wasn’t sure where his next plate was coming from. _Although_ , she thought, _that was probably true for him in the past_. _Not anymore, though_ , she resolved.

* * *

_Pancakes,_ he made a mental note, _are very good._ He was grateful to Hawke for the breakfast- no one had ever gone out of their way to make him food before.

His shift at the shelter that evening was poised to be uneventful. It was a Thursday night and no events or new intakes were planned. However, as soon as he punched in for the day, he was called into Lirene’s office.

“Good news!” she said without greeting. “I don’t know what happened, but someone just donated enough money to keep us afloat for the next few months.”

“Who was it?” Fenris asked.

“That’s the intriguing part, we have no idea,” Lirene said. “They sent the donation anonymously.”

Fenris’ first thought was that Hawke would be pleased to hear it. “That’s very good news,” he said.

“I’m thinking of using some of the money to hold a charity gala to schmooze all these Hightown types,” Lirene said. “We just need to find some politician or public figure who knows people to help us.”

“I think I might know somebody,” Fenris said.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new resident comes in to the shelter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! It's currently finals season for me and school is kicking my butt. Hopefully I should be back to updating every week after this.

There was a new resident who came in unexpectedly to the shelter that day, a young elf girl named Orana. Fenris felt sympathy for her. She was reticent to share her story, but he could tell from her mannerisms that she had been a former slave.

Unfortunately, the shelter was full, and Lirene was blazing up the phone lines trying to line up other accommodations for the girl. She sat looking forlorn on their waiting room couch when Hawke waltzed in carrying a Tupperware in her hands.

“Hello,” she said cheerfully to both. “Fenris, you forgot your lunch, so I figured I’d stop by between riders. Who’s this?”

“My name is Orana,” she said.

Fenris pulled Hawke aside and took the Tupperware from her.

“Hawke, she’s new to the shelter and has nowhere to go right now,” he said. “Do you think Varric might know of some place she could go?”

“I know somewhere she can go,” Hawke said. She poked her head back out into the waiting room. “Orana, why don’t you come by our place later?”

“Really?” Orana asked.

“Hawke, what exactly do you intend here,” Fenris hissed, apprehensive. Hawke shrugged.

“She can take my room, and I’ll take the couch,” Hawke said, “until she can find another place, at least.”

“Oh,” was all Fenris said.

“Orana, you can have my room,” Hawke said, sitting beside her. “What did you do before you came to Kirkwall?”

“I cooked and cleaned,” Orana said, managing a smile. “I can cook and clean for you.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Fenris interjected.

“No, don’t worry about it,” Hawke said. “I think I might have a job for you. How do you feel about waitressing?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Orana said.

“Let me give Varric a call,” Hawke said, getting back up. Fenris shook his head.

“I’ll do it,” he said. “I have another favor to ask him.” He pulled out his phone and clicked on Varric’s contact information. Varric answered quickly.

“Broody?” he said, sounding surprised. “How can I help you?”

“I have two favors to ask,” Fenris admitted. “So you know how Hawke is leaving the restaurant for her new job on Monday.” 

“Yeah.”

“We may have found a replacement,” Fenris said. Varric paused.

“Is this someone from your shelter?”

“Yes.”

“Tell her to come in Monday afternoon for training. What was the second favor?”

“It is also related to the shelter,” Fenris admitted. “We recently got a large donation, and we want to use it to host an event to draw in more donations, but we need someone who knows people with wealth.”

“I can handle that,” Varric said. “I’ll get you the mayor’s number within the week.”

“Thank you,” Fenris said.

“Anything for my favorite elf,” Varric said before hanging up. Fenris nodded his assent to Hawke.

“Varric said she can come into the restaurant on Monday for training,” he said. Hawke cheered loudly and hugged Orana, who stiffened at the sudden touch.

“Okay, I have to get back to work,” Hawke said. She grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled down their address then stopped and thought for a second. “Can you read well?” she asked Orana.

“No,” she admitted.

Hawke nodded and threw that paper in the trash. “Here, come with me, and I’ll take you to the apartment. I promise I’m not a murderer.”

“Hawke…” Fenris said, unsure where he was going with the sentence. “Thank you.”

Hawke grinned. “Taking in strays is what I do,” she said, leading Orana out the door and to her car. Fenris smiled and went into Lirene’s office to give her the good news.

The drive home in Hawke’s car was quiet. Hawke was uncertain how to make conversation with Orana, so she mostly drove in silence. But, Hawke being Hawke, she attempted anyway.

“So, you’re from Tevinter?” Hawke asked.

“Yes,” Orana said, seeming less nervous now. “I was a slave there.”

“So was Fenris,” Hawke said. “So how did you wind up here?”

“My papa was killed in a blood magic ritual,” Orana said factually, as if things like that happened every day. Hawke supposed that to Orana, they might. “I ran away when I could.”

“Well that’s good,” Hawke said, unsure of what to say to that. “I’m sorry to hear about your father. My father died recently, too. It wasn’t blood magic or anything, though. He was just sick for a while.”

They lapsed into more silence. _Well, that was depressing_ , Hawke thought. She wanted to make one of her usual quips but couldn’t think of a way to make the death of a parent funny. Finally, they pulled up to the apartment complex. They got out of the car and Hawke led Orana up the stairs to the apartment.

“Here,” Hawke said, “you can have the spare key. Plus, that way Isabela won’t steal it again. You can watch our Netflix or do whatever you want. Also, I have a mabari named Barkspawn. He’s very friendly and will probably attempt to lick your face. Fair warning.” She slid the key off its chain and handed it to Orana, who unlocked the door tentatively as if she was expecting the key to not work.

“You go on inside,” Hawke said. “I’ve got to get back to work.” Orana nodded and slipped inside, locking the door quickly behind her.

The rest of her day was uneventful; she drove around the city and listened to strangers’ problems, just like any other day. After she finished and arrived home, she climbed the steps to the apartment but paused briefly to listen to the voices coming from inside. _Fenris and Orana,_ she thought _._ She didn’t want to eavesdrop, but she didn’t want to interrupt either, so she waited outside.

“You no longer have to do the cleaning and cooking, Orana. You are free now.”

“So you escaped too?” Orana asked.

“Yes, not much time before you did,” Fenris said. “I am also new to Kirkwall.”

“Why did you leave?” Orana asked.

“My mas- Danarius- asked me to do something I was… unwilling to do.”

“My mistress killed my papa,” Orana said sadly.

“You no longer have to call her mistress,” Fenris said gently. “Her name will do. You are free now.”

There was some quiet discussion that Hawke couldn’t make out, then a sudden noise.

“Hadriana? Your mistress was Hadriana?” Fenris shouted. “Danarius’s apprentice?” Hawke could imagine him pacing the way he probably was. “What a small world,” he said, something in his voice sounding guttural and distant.

“Are- are you upset with me?” Orana asked.

“No,” Fenris said. “No, not with you.” Hawke heard him mutter something in Tevene that she could only assume was cursing, then a door slam shut. She opened the door to the apartment to see Orana on the verge of tears.

“Are you alright?” Hawke asked gently. Orana nodded.

“I’m sorry, mistress,” Orana said.

“Please don’t call me mistress,” Hawke said. “Just ‘Hawke’ is fine.” She looked around the apartment and found that everything that had been messy, Orana had cleaned while they were gone. The dishes were done, the floors were mopped, everything was nearly sparkling.

“Also, thank you, but you don’t have to clean so much,” Hawke said. “You’re just one of the roommates now.” She sighed. “I should go check on Fenris.”

She walked up to Fenris’ door and gently knocked, not expecting an answer.

“Fenris? Do you need anything?” There was a long silence, so long that Hawke was about to give up.

“A bottle of wine, perhaps,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse. Hawke went to the alcohol cabinet and grabbed a bottle of the Tevinter red wine that Fenris always kept on hand as well as two glasses. She opened his door gently, unsure what to expect.

He was sitting on his bed, his face in his hands.

“No matter where I go, it follows me,” he said. “Even now.”

“Say the word and I’ll toss Orana out on the street,” she said, which got a weak chuckle out of him. “I’m just kidding!” she yelled for Orana’s sake, just in case she heard. She put the wine glasses down and sat next to Fenris. Their thighs were nearly touching. Hawke couldn’t help but be very aware of that fact.

“Let’s get drunk and talk about our feelings,” she said, opening the bottle and pouring two glasses. “That’ll make you feel better.”

“I don’t know if I want to talk about it, but drinking sounds nice,” Fenris admitted. He took one of the glasses and contemplated it for a second before starting to drink.

“It’ll be cramped in here,” Hawke said. “You’ve picked up two strays and a mabari now.” Fenris smiled.

“I would hardly call you a stray,” he said. “More like a wild dog.”

“What?” Hawke said in mock surprise. “Me, wild? I’m the tamest person you’ll ever meet.”

“I’d sooner call Isabela monogamous than call you tame,” Fenris said. Hawke laughed. Fenris turned his attention back to his full wine glass.

“Hawke,” he said, suddenly serious, “it may be too dangerous for me to stay in Kirkwall. Danarius is likely hunting for me.”

“Can he legally take you?” Hawke asked. “Slavery is illegal here. There has to be some kind of law against kidnapping a person.”

“Not when you have Danarius’s money and power,” Fenris said bitterly.

“Well… we would miss you if you left,” Hawke said, smiling at him. “I’d miss all the Tevinter reds sitting in the cabinet next to my cheap liquor.”

“Then Orana could take my room,” he said thoughtfully.

“Hey, don’t start planning to leave,” Hawke said, nudging him playfully. “You haven’t heard all my jokes yet. Some of them are even good.” Fenris chuckled and took a big swig from his glass.

“I think…” he started. He paused. “I think I need to be alone for some time.”

“Of course,” Hawke said. “I’ll go make myself scarce.” She got up to leave, but Fenris grabbed her arm. Surprised, she turned around to face him.

“Wait,” he said, then he kissed her.

It was a little awkward, as first kisses go, but to Hawke, it was wonderful. He tasted like red wine. He gripped her like he was afraid to let her go. Suddenly, they were on the bed, their bodies leaning in eagerly to roaming hands.

“Wait,” Hawke said, breaking away, “are you sure about this? We can stop at any time if you’re not comfortable.”

“I’m sure,” Fenris said with a smile.

* * *

Hawke woke up the next morning disoriented, wondering why she wasn’t in her bed. Then she remembered.

_Oh, shit, I hooked up with my roommate_.

She sat up and saw that Fenris was sitting on the edge of the bed, his face in his hands.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. He shook his head.

“I can’t… I can’t do this,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Last night… I dreamed about my life before. Before the markings.” 

“If it brought your memory back, maybe we should do it more often,” Hawke said with a wry smile. He shook his head.

“I can’t do this,” he repeated, getting up and getting dressed quickly in the same clothes he had been wearing last night. “I’m going to the shelter,” he said brusquely.

“Is it even your shift?” Hawke asked, getting up to try to stop him. He didn’t answer but instead ran out the door carrying his shoes. Hawke felt a pit in her stomach. She got dressed while feeling sick the whole time. _Well, I just ruined everything,_ she thought. _Fuck me._ She had the urge to call Isabela and talk about it but didn’t want her best friend to know how Fenris had left. She heard the main door open and close as Fenris left the apartment. Hawke had the sudden urge to throw something against the wall, to scream, but thought better of it. No. She wasn’t going to let this get to her.

She was, however, going to listen to some Fleetwood Mac and cry in her sweatpants while eating ice cream at Isabela’s. Isabela eventually picked up the whole story from the fragments that Hawke gave her.

“I’m so sorry he hurt you, sweet thing,” Isabela said, stroking her hair.

“I feel like a disgusting human,” Hawke said, sniffling. “I thought he _liked_ me.”

“I don’t think you’re a disgusting human,” Merrill piped in from the other couch. “Just a regular sort of human.” Hawke snorted before eating another spoonful of ice cream.

“You’re not disgusting, Hawke. You’re _amazing,_ and if he doesn’t see that then you’re not worth his time. For what it’s worth, I thought he liked you too.” Isabela paused. “Do you want me to beat him up, sweet thing?”

Hawke laughed again. “Only if you really want to.” Isabela smiled and continued stroking her hair.

“For what it’s worth, love, anyone lucky enough to sleep with you would be crazy to leave like that,” Isabela said. “You’re a beautiful person, Hawke.”

Hawke sniffled again, putting the ice cream down.

“Thanks, Bela,” she said. “What ever happened to Zevran, that guy from the other night?”

“Oh, he had to leave town the next day,” Isabela said. “But- mmmh- that night was so good.” Hawke giggled, leaning into Isabela.

* * *

Fenris felt like he was going to be eaten alive by his guilt. His stomach was in knots, and he could barely concentrate on his work at the shelter. He spent all day rationalizing his decision to himself. _She deserves better than an escaped slave,_ he thought, raking a hand through his hair. _Last night was a mistake_.

And yet, it didn’t _feel_ like a mistake, especially not while it was happening. Fenris cursed inwardly at himself. He shouldn’t have—

Shouldn’t have done what? Reached above his station? He was a free man now, after all. _Still,_ he thought, _I am a liability to Hawke. I shouldn’t have dragged her into this._ And then there was the matter of his dream – his memories – vague fragments that sifted through his hands as soon as he tried to recall them: a small redheaded elf girl (Varania, he suddenly realized) and his mother. He wanted to know more. He wanted to remember more. He remembered a name: Leto. Was it his? He put his face in his hands, it was all too much—

“Fenris? Can you come see me?” Lirene called. As he walked into her office, she frowned at him. “Are you alright?” she asked. “You can go home if you’re sick. I can’t have you infecting the residents.”

“I am fine,” he said, even though he was not, but he didn’t want to have to go home and face Hawke. 

“Right,” she said, not sounding like she believed him. “So your friend Varric called and got me in contact with the mayor, and he’s available to host a charity gala for us next month. He gave us a list of people to invite and a few extra invitations for staff and residents. It’s black tie. I was thinking we could give one to you and your friend Hawke, for all the hard work you two have done.”

Hearing her name was like a punch in the gut. Something must have shown on his face because Lirene raised her eyebrows.

“I was going to have you call her, but I guess I’ll do it,” she said. “I don’t wanna know what happened with you two.” She turned back to her computer, and Fenris left her office, his stomach feeling like it was eating itself.

Of course Hawke was going to be invited. Not only would he have to see her at home, he’d have to face a work event where she would be the only person he knew other than Lirene.

Fenris could barely concentrate on his work for the rest of the day. He kept thinking about Hawke’s face when he left. She always wore her emotions on her sleeve, and the open sadness in her eyes that morning was enough to make him mentally punish himself. She looked so torn and lost. He deserved to feel guilty.

He shook his head, trying to clear the image of Hawke’s face out of his head. Fenris thought of another problem: where was he going to find black tie in the next month? And more importantly, how was he going to pay for that, even a rental? Working the front desk at a refugee shelter didn’t exactly pay very well.

Fenris sighed and returned to his work.

* * *

Hawke was sitting on the couch watching a chick flick with Orana when the call came in from the shelter. When she saw the shelter come up on her caller ID, her stomach flipped. She was half-expecting (and fully wanting) it to be Fenris, apologizing for that morning. Maybe he actually did like her after all-

“Hawke? This is Lirene from the shelter.” _Dammit_ , she thought.

“Yes?” Hawke answered, walking outside to not bother Orana.

“The mayor is throwing a charity gala to raise money for us next month, and he gave the shelter some extra tickets. I wanted to thank you for all your hard work. Would you like to come?” _Would Fenris be there?_ She thought. But no; the promise of potential free booze and food proved too powerful, overcoming her sense of awkwardness at having to see Fenris more often.

“Sure,” Hawke said. “I’d love to. What’s the dress code?”

“Black tie.” _Shit,_ Hawke thought, _what the hell am I gonna wear?_

“Thanks, Lirene.” Lirene hung up without saying goodbye. Hawke pondered the situation for a second. She needed a formal dress relatively soon, and it was prom season, which made that even more difficult. Well, her new job paid relatively well, much more than she was used to. Maybe she could use her first paycheck on a decent dress instead of, you know, food or rent.

Isabela texted her.

**10:00am: u cuming to the hanged man tonight?**

**10:00am: haha coming not cumming. i mean, either way works ; )**

Hawke shook her head, smiling at Isabela’s Freudian slip before texting her back.

**10:01am: sure why?**

Isabela responded instantly.

**10:02am: fenris usually comes. don’t want it to be awkward between you two**

Shit. Hawke hadn’t thought about that. Fenris had become part of their friend group in the short time they’d known him. Well, they were her friends first. She wouldn’t be intimidated out of spending time with her best friends. Fenris could just deal with it.

_If he shows, it’s gonna be awkward as hell,_ Hawke mused. _I’m gonna need some extra drinks tonight_.

Hawke was the first one to the Hanged Man that night, having taken the day off driving. Isabela showed up soon after with Varric in tow. Hawke did her best not to keep glancing at the door, waiting to see if a certain elf was coming, but failed… repeatedly. Had she driven him away for good?

He didn’t show that night. Hawke and Isabela walked home together, Isabela chattering away about her day while Hawke just listened. She wasn’t in the mood for talking. She felt like it was her fault that Fenris left that morning; had she been a better friend, or maybe even a better potential romantic partner, he wouldn’t have ditched her like he did. She felt shame burning her cheeks as she walked up to her apartment. Poised to confront Fenris, she opened the door, expecting to see him. Instead, he wasn’t in the living room or kitchen. Neither was Orana. _They must both be in their rooms,_ she thought. _Fenris is probably avoiding me_.

Well, if that was the way he wanted things, Hawke wouldn’t push him. Maybe she had pushed him too far already, and that’s why he left. Hawke replayed that morning in her head dozens of times, analyzing everything they had said and done, until the memory started to feel unreal. She had wanted—well, she didn’t know what she wanted. A boyfriend? Her cheeks reddened again at the idea. Of course Fenris had left. Why wouldn’t he?

When she eventually fell asleep on the couch, watching reruns of a meaningless sitcom she had seen dozens of times already, she even dreamed about that morning. In the dream, this time Fenris had laughed at her, mocking her for even thinking that she would be enough, that she would be lovable, that she could make someone happy and get them to stay longer than one night. She woke up feeling regret, pushing her fingers into her tear ducts to prevent any tears from falling. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of crying.

She woke up as the day broke, disoriented and sore from sleeping at an odd angle on the couch. She checked her phone. It wasn’t even 7am yet. Hawke groaned before going to the bathroom to get ready for the day. _Might as well start my day now,_ she figured.

She started driving as soon as she got ready, not wanting to face Fenris when he eventually woke and emerged from his room. Driving people around and making small talk required very little brain power on her part, so the rest of her mind could be consumed with everything she had done wrong.

Hawke knew she could be a lot. Maybe he just hadn’t liked her, even as a friend, and had started to become friends with her out of pity. Chewing on her lower lip, she looked out the window at the cityscape passing her by.

That night, she showed up at the Hanged Man and was surprised to see Anders there, drinking a beer with Isabela and Merrill.

“Hawke,” Anders said with a weak smile. “Long time, no see. I heard you moved in with that elf from the shelter.”

“Fenris,” she corrected automatically, her whole face suddenly burning.

“I see,” Anders said tactfully.

“Who wants to do shots?!” Hawke said, forcing a broad grin on her face. Anders looked at her with pity in his face, shaming her further. She didn’t want their pity.

“I will!” Merrill said, her face bright. “I’ve never had a shot before!”

“You’re not missing out, sweet thing,” Isabela said.

“I’d like to try one,” Merrill said. “You know, I don’t go to bars very often.”

“Well, you’re always welcome here,” Isabela said, smiling at Merrill. _There must be something in the water,_ Hawke thought with a wry smile. She had never seen Isabela smile that way at anyone before.

“So, how goes the manifesto?” Isabela asked Anders. The mage snorted.

“Not well. Templars won’t let me distribute it online. Said it’s harmful propaganda,” Anders said with bitterness in his voice.

Their shots arrived at the table. Hawke and Merrill picked theirs up, Hawke grinning at Merrill.

“1… 2… 3… shot!” Hawke yelled, downing hers in a smooth motion. Merrill tried to do the same but nearly spit hers out.

“That’s disgusting!” Merrill said. “Why would anyone drink that?”

“It’s not for the taste, that’s for sure,” Hawke laughed.

Hawke heard the door to the bar open and turned on instinct, briefly meeting eyes with Fenris. Hawke felt like the air had been sucked out of her lungs. He walked up to the table, his face twisted like he was embarrassed. The table suddenly went silent as everyone contemplated their drinks for a minute.

“Next round’s on me!” Hawke said with a brittle smile. She ordered them all a round of drinks. “So you guys will never guess what this guy I drove today said to me.” She continued her story, purposefully not looking at Fenris, ignoring him as if to dare him to confront her; however, he seemed to be quieter than usual, not laughing along or making dry comments. They sat at opposite sides of the table, and Hawke could feel his eyes on her several times throughout the night. She wanted nothing more than to pull him aside and ask him what the hell he was thinking but thought the better of it. He didn’t seem to want to acknowledge what happened, so she let it sit in her mind, festering like an open wound. 

Hawke did her best to be her usual lively self, but she could tell Anders was watching her too. _He’s probably worried about me,_ Hawke thought. She tried to give them every reason not to be worried about her. She didn’t want their pity or sympathy. Hawke just wanted everything to go back to normal. 

A few rounds of drinks later, she and Isabela were singing a raucous round of karaoke when she saw Fenris slip out into the night, presumably leaving for home. She felt disappointed despite herself. Fenris leaving seemed to break a dam. Anders soon left, escorting Merrill home. He hugged Hawke a little too long before he left.

As soon as they were alone, Isabela confronted Hawke.

“You don’t have to keep up this act, you know,” she said. “Just let yourself be hurt, sweet thing.”

“What do you mean?” Hawke said in a breezy voice. “Hurt about what?”

“Oh, come off it, you know _exactly_ what I’m talking about,” Isabela said. “Broody was giving you the puppy dog eyes all night, and I saw your face when he left. You two just need to talk to each other.”

Hawke sighed. “He doesn’t want to talk about it, so I’m not going to bring it up,” she said. “We’re just roommates, that’s all.”

“Roommates who slept together and haven’t talked about it,” Isabela pointed out.

“Speaking of, I saw the way you were smiling at Merrill earlier,” Hawke said with a grin, taking a swig of her beer. “How’s that going?”

“Don’t change the conversation on me, love,” Isabela said with a smile. “You know just as well as I do that it’ll probably never happen. She’s too busy with her dissertation project, and I have a rule against dating someone I live with.”

Hawke arched an eyebrow. “So you want to date her?” she said. “Am I hearing this right? The great Isabela, queen of the one-night stand, wants to be monogamous?” Isabela laughed.

“Oh, shut it,” Isabela said fondly. “I’ve dated monogamously before.”

“Your marriage doesn’t count,” Hawke said. She took another sip of her beer. She was pretty well on her way to drunkenness by that point, which was exactly her goal. 

They stayed until the bar closed then walked home together, singing loudly enough to wake the neighbors. They were leaning on each other and giggling like schoolgirls. Hawke walked up to her apartment and took several tries to put her key in the door. She went inside and immediately flopped onto the couch, falling into sleep almost as soon as she laid down.

The next few nights were just as awkward as the first. Hawke and Fenris carefully avoided each other, orbiting each other like planets, repulsed and attracted by a gravitational pull. It became like clockwork. They took care to ensure they were never alone together, never in a situation where they had to make conversation, never confronting each other about what happened between them.

When they were home, they were rarely in the same room at the same time. When they inevitably were, they would nod in the other’s direction and then ignore the other. Orana seemed to pick up on the mood, stopping her attempts to make conversation with both of them at once. She told Hawke privately once that she was going to enjoy her new job- she wanted to save up to move out on her own. Hawke thought about the apartment prices in Kirkwall and the meager earnings of a waitress but didn’t want to burst her bubble.

And then, Sunday morning, Fenris walked up to Hawke in the kitchen while she was making breakfast.

“I’m planning on moving out,” he said. “Orana can have my room.” He wasn’t meeting her eyes.

“Okay,” Hawke said, processing this, “when are you moving out?”

“As soon as I can,” he said, walking away and ending the conversation.

Hawke had to admit she had seen it coming. Three people in a two-bedroom apartment, when two roommates weren’t on speaking terms, was not a good situation. Still, it hurt to know that Fenris would be leaving because of her.

She resolved not to think about it. She was starting her new job tomorrow and couldn’t be distracted by her personal problems.

* * *

Fenris walked away from the brief conversation feeling ashamed and dirty. He didn’t even have a new place to stay yet. He just wanted Hawke to know that he’d be out of her hair as soon as possible. He still replayed that night in his head over and over, embarrassed that he had left but feeling like it was for the best. He was a liability to Hawke, after all, Danarius would inevitably come for him, and it was best if he skipped town completely.

And yet, he still went to the Hanged Man nearly every night, still smiled at Isabela’s raunchy jokes and Varric’s stories, still stayed annoyed with Anders’s manifesto, and still occasionally glanced at Hawke, who staunchly refused to look at him. He knew he deserved it. He deserved worse for the way he had left her.

No. He had let himself wallow in self-pity for a few days, but no more.


	5. Chapter 5

Hawke walked up to the office building- _her_ new office now, she reminded herself- wearing her secondhand slacks and blouse. She was excited and ready to get started. She took the elevators up, her palms sweating again. _Seems like I’m always sweaty when I come here_ , she thought.

As the elevator doors dinged, she took a deep breath and stepped out into the office. No one paid her any mind. She walked up to the front desk, where the lady- Alma, by her name tag- was typing away on her computer.

“Hold on one second,” Alma said, still not looking away from the computer. Finally she finished and pressed a button for the intercom. “Bartrand? The new girl is here.” Then a pause, and to Hawke- “You can take a seat over there for now.”

Hawke obligingly sat in the waiting area, feeling more uncomfortable by the second. What if she wasn’t actually qualified enough? What if-

“Hawke?” Bartrand said, extending a hand. She shook it mutely, suppressing any quips she wanted to make. Not on her first day, at least. “Here, let me take you to your desk.”

They walked the byzantine office corridors until they reached a small cubicle wedged in-between two other cubicles, set up with the barest of accommodations- a computer and mouse and that was all. Still, she could hardly complain; her last gigs had been waitressing and driving people around. A cubicle sounded amazing. 

“Okay, Hawke, what you’re gonna do is design a new logo and some web ads for us,” he said. “I need it as soon as possible. Go ahead and work on some mock-ups and I’ll let you know what I think.” He dismissed her with a wave. Hawke felt a little… unqualified.

She sat down at her desk and started working right away. If Bartrand wanted mock-ups, he was going to get the best damn mock-ups he’d ever seen.

That night, she stayed late in the evening working on her project, barely looking up until she noticed that everyone else had left. She then left, feeling a little proud to be the last one leaving the office. It felt good to not be hourly anymore. And it especially felt good to not be driving strangers around for money in her shitty old car.

That night after work, she headed to a charity shop before it could close. _I might as well start trying to find a dress now,_ she thought. _I’ll wear some sixteen-year-olds cast-off prom dress if I have to_.

At the charity shop, she browsed their formalwear section. It was slim pickings. All she could see were someone’s grandma’s dresses and old prom dresses. Hawke steeled herself, knowing she would probably have to pick something she didn’t like, when she saw a long light blue dress that she immediately knew was the one. She tried it on… and it was slightly too big.

_Shit_ , Hawke thought. _Maybe Merrill can take it in for me_. She went ahead and bought it anyway, feeling optimistic. _That’s one problem solved,_ she thought. Whatever her other concerns about being at a gala with Fenris, at least she would be dressed to kill. Well, maybe not dressed to _kill_ \- maybe more like “dressed to slightly wound.” But still, she was glad to have solved that problem.

The next two weeks passed quickly. Hawke never fully adjusted to working a 9 to 5 job, often working into the night to get something done. She spent her days at work and her nights at the Hanged Man. She, however, was abstaining from heavy drinking- it was the longest she had gone in a long time without getting drunk. It made her mornings much easier. At work she made small talk at the water cooler with her new coworkers, feeling like a real adult now that she had an office job.

Things with Fenris proceeded the same. They avoided each other at home. As Hawke would open the main door, she often would hear Fenris suddenly walk into his room and close the door to avoid her. Orana was adjusting to a life where she got paid- and paid bills. Varric praised her performance at the restaurant one evening at the Hanged Man, saying she was one of his best waitresses, and she glowed from the compliment all day.

Orana didn’t often come to the Hanged Man for drinks. She seemed a little intimidated by the usual crew. She also didn’t seem to enjoy drinking much, which put her at odds with the rest of the group. The first night she went, Isabela tried to ply her with copious amounts of alcohol to tell her life story. Even Hawke thought it was a bit tactless, but Isabela wasn’t exactly known for her politeness.

“Shot? Mixed drink? Beer?” Isabela asked, shoving the tray of proffered drinks under Orana’s nose. Isabela’s choice of attire that night was particularly on-brand; she was wearing a Hanged Man staff shirt cut into a crop top and a skirt that could only be described as barely fitting her wide hips. Hawke was a little impressed that she had managed to squeeze it on.

“Varric, your bartender is offering someone free drinks right in front of you,” Hawke said with a grin.

“My best bartender is offering my best waitress free drinks, Hawke. I’ll turn a blind eye this once.”

“And yet I continue having to pay,” Hawke said with a mock sigh. “I used to be your best waitress.”

“And now you’re my best graphic designer. You’re moving up in the world.”

“Yes, we’re all very proud of you,” Anders said sincerely, smiling at her. “We were just talking about it before you got here.” Out of the corner of her eye, Hawke could see Fenris look at his feet and shift uncomfortably.

“You were talking about me? Do tell, I love gossip, especially when it’s about me.”

“Varric was just telling us how Bartrand praised your work to him. Bartrand, the dwarf who usually grunts in lieu of speech,” Isabela said, passing out drinks to the table next to them.

“And someone’s been staying late in the office too,” Anders said, still smiling at her.

“That’s true,” Orana said. “You’ve been getting home late very often recently.”

“You guys are too sweet,” Hawke said. “You really know how to make a girl feel all gooey inside.”

“I’ll make you feel gooey inside,” Isabela said, unable to resist.

“Speaking of jobs, do you ever get any actual work done here?” Hawke asked Isabela. “I haven’t seen you behind the bar all night.”

Isabela took a stack of bills out of some unknown pocket and waggled them at Hawke. “Look at these tips,” she said. “Does this look like I don’t work?”

“It looks like people are enjoying that crop top more than anything else,” Anders commented dryly. Isabela laughed and walked off to take someone’s order, swaying her hips a bit more than necessary.

“So how’s waitressing, Orana?” Hawke asked. Orana beamed at her.

“Very good! Everyone at the restaurant has been terribly nice.”

“They must like you,” Hawke said. “They were never that nice to me.” Though she couldn’t imagine someone being mean to Orana. That would be like kicking a puppy. Hawke finished off her beer and looked at the clock on her phone.

“Looks like it’s time to head out,” Hawke said. “I’ve got an early day tomorrow.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Anders said immediately, finishing his own drink.

“Didn’t you drive here?” Hawke said.

“I’ll come back for my car,” he said, pulling out a few bills from his pocket. “Here, I’ll pay for your drink too.” From the corner of her eye, Hawke could see Fenris making an odd face at Anders. Was he frowning?

“I’ll never turn down a free drink,” Hawke said. They walked up to the door and Anders opened it for her, smiling at her in a way that made her feel vaguely uncomfortable. They walked back to the apartment complex in strained silence, Hawke searching for something to say. Eventually they arrived back at Hawke’s apartment.

“Well, this is me,” Hawke said. “Uh, thanks for walking me. I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Anders said. He was standing close enough that Hawke could smell a trace of cologne. When had Anders started wearing cologne?

“Goodnight,” she said, brushing past him to unlock the door.

“Goodnight,” he said, sounding slightly sad. He was still standing outside, slumped over, his hands in his pockets, when Hawke closed the door on him. _Okay, next up I need to find out what the hell is going on with Anders,_ Hawke thought before laying down on the couch. _Not gonna deal with that right now._

The next day, Hawke finished her project at work. Bartrand had grunted when she turned in her mock-ups. She had figured that was the most feedback she would get out of him. She sent him the final version and sat back in her chair with a smile. Maybe this was it, this was her big break. She wondered what they would have her do next.

An email from Bartrand came back almost immediately, asking her to come into his office.

“Hawke,” he said when she walked in. “I have some bad news.”

Her mind started to race.

“We’ve decided to go with an outside designer,” he said. “You can head home.”

She felt like time had stopped for a second. “And you’re just now telling me this?” she asked. “It’s not like I just spent two weeks working on your project.”

“You’ll be paid for your time,” Bartrand said. “We won’t need you any longer, though.”

_Motherfucker_ , she thought, her blood rushing to her face. _No, I have to stay composed._

“Well then,” she said, then walked out of his office. _Not the best of exits_ , she thought with a grimace. _I could have come up with something better._

Her face burning with shame and anger, she gathered her few things from her cubicle and did her walk of shame down the long corridor to the elevators. On the way downstairs, she called Varric.

“Hey Hawke, what’s up?”

“Your brother just fired me, that’s what’s up.”

“He did what? He’s been praising your work since you started. I know for a fact he wants to use your logo to replace the current one.”

The elevator doors opened with a ding. Hawke stopped cold by what Varric said, trying to process it.

“So what I’m hearing, is that he just wanted me to design a couple of things then toss me out?” She swore, startling a couple of businesspeople coming back from lunch. She paced around the lobby of the building.

“I’m sorry, Hawke,” Varric said. “Bartrand’s a bastard. I’ll make sure you get paid extra.”

“Thanks, Varric,” she said with a sigh. “If he was going to fuck me over, I just wish he would have bought me a drink first.” A passerby looked at her very sternly as she said this.

“I gotta go, Hawke, but Hanged Man tonight?”

“Sure, see you there.” Varric hung up.

Hawke sighed and started to walk back to the parking lot. _Now that I’m unemployed, I can start day drinking again_ , she thought. _In what better way could I possibly spend my time?_

Fenris had the day off work and was home alone since Orana was working a double shift. He wasn’t expecting Hawke to come home so early. When she did, he assumed the worst- that she had been laid off. Hawke walked in the door and sighed, slumping like the news was weighing her down.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, breaking the silence. Hawke looked at him, startled.

“I’m great! I get fired all the time,” she said cheerfully. “Bartrand let me go once he had a logo and an ad campaign out of me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Fenris said. And he was. He had hoped the new job would work out for Hawke.

“If…” she paused. “Could you… maybe could you wait to move out until I find another job?” He felt terrible that she seemed so nervous to ask; did he really seem that intimidating?

“Of course,” he said without hesitating.

“Thanks,” Hawke said with a grimace. “Normally I would beg Varric for my old job back but it seems like Orana has it pretty well secured. Oh well, back to ridesharing I suppose.” She made a move to enter her room. Orana’s room? He didn’t know anymore.

“Hawke…” he started. He paused. “Will you be at the Hanged Man tonight?”

She seemed surprised that he was asking. “I need to drown my sorrows somewhere, and the Hanged Man will do fine.” For an uncomfortable second they locked eyes before Hawke broke the eye contact and went into her old room.

That night, the whole crew made it to the Hanged Man, including Aveline and Anders, both of whom were not usual regulars at the bar. Fenris watched as Hawke spun the tale about her firing into some drawn-out epic, gesturing wildly and getting big laughs out of their friends. He really admired her ability to do that- to enrapture a crowd of people. He, himself, had never had that gift. People stared at him when he went outside, but that had all to do with his markings, not his natural charisma. That night, he left early, anticipating the hangover that would inevitably cloud his shift at the shelter.

The next day, Fenris had one goal before his evening shift at the shelter: to find a black-tie outfit to rent. Ideally, one that fit. He was very aware that Hawke would be there too and briefly wondered what she would wear. _No,_ he chided himself, _don’t go down that route._ Luckily, the first rental shop he tried had one he could rent for the night at a reasonable price. When he tried it on, he looked in the mirror, taking it all in. The shoulders were slightly too large for his smaller frame, but no matter. It worked. Of course, he had worn well-fitting, tailored clothes before- before-

_I won’t bring that up,_ he thought. _Not now._ The thoughts felt like they were pushing at his mind, looking for a release, but he would not grant it.

After he paid and left, he wondered what to do with the rest of his day. He could go home and stare at the ceiling of his bedroom, like he had been doing to avoid Hawke. No, he resolved he was going to sit in the living room now. No more avoiding her. He had to face his failure.

When he got home, Hawke was laughing along to some sitcom on the couch. She briefly looked up at him when he entered then went back to watching her show, until he sat down on the other couch and joined her. Then she stared at him in a way that made him queasy.

They didn’t speak, they just watched the show in an uncomfortable silence. Fenris was suddenly very aware of the way he was sitting. He cursed at himself mentally.

Hawke was beyond surprised when Fenris sat down on the other couch. He was sitting in a very awkward way and seemed uncomfortable that she was there. She wouldn’t be chased out of her own living room, though, if that’s what he intended. He had been cold to her lately and she still wasn’t sure where they stood. 

When Orana came home from her lunch shift and saw them, her eyes flitted between the two as she processed the situation. Hawke realized she probably hadn’t seen her and Fenris in the same room since the day she moved in.

“I have to leave for work,” Fenris said to nobody in particular. He stood up and hesitated for a second, then walked out of the apartment, passing Orana on his way out.

“Well, that was awkward,” Hawke said. “Would you like to watch a sitcom with me?”

“What’s a sitcom?” Orana asked.

“It’s a TV show about people who do stupid things,” Hawke responded. “Come sit down.”

They watched the TV in silence for a few minutes until Hawke had an idea.

“Come to think of it,” Hawke said, “do you need help learning to read Common? I could probably help you.”

“That would be very nice of you,” Orana said. “My spelling and reading are terrible.”

Hawke turned off the TV and walked up to the bookshelf. Most of them were trashy romance novels that Isabela kept leaving at their apartment, but there were a couple of thrillers written by Varric too. She grabbed one of Varric’s latest novels, _Hard in Hightown_ , and sat down with Orana.

“Right,” she said, “this is a detective thriller so you’ll have a lot of material to work with.”

Orana opened the book and scanned the first page. She haltingly sounded out the words, occasionally stopping to ask Hawke for a definition or help with a word. By the end of the night, her reading had already improved a little. Hawke had to admit, she was proud of herself. _I’m helping someone learn to read,_ she thought. _Take that, mom. I’m not a total disappointment._

That night, Hawke was sitting on the couch beaming while Orana read a passage from the book for Fenris. Fenris smiled and congratulated her, glancing at Hawke.

“We can do these reading lessons a few nights a week, Orana,” Hawke said. “I’ve got nothing but time now.”

“Thank you, mistr- Hawke,” Orana said, correcting herself.

The two weeks before the charity gala were the longest two weeks Hawke had ever experienced. Without a job, she had nothing to do but watch Netflix all day- which she did, with gusto. She binged all the crap reality shows she could find.

Applying for jobs was difficult with her spotty resume, but she used the laptop to look through ads online anyway. It seemed like she was either over or under qualified for most of the positions that she saw. She applied for any graphic design jobs she could find, no matter what qualifications they wanted, but she also applied for retail and service jobs too. _Can’t be too picky when you’re broke_ , she thought. She was on the verge of being a rideshare driver again out of desperation.

Then one day, she got a call from Varric. “Hey kiddo,” he said, “I made sure Bartrand just did your direct deposit for the two weeks you worked there. I got you as much as I could without outright having to fight Bartrand, so have fun.”

“Thanks, Varric,” she said, smiling. She checked her bank account, and sure enough, it was sitting there, just waiting to be spent.

The first thing she did was walk up to Merrill and Isabela’s apartment and knock on the door, bearing her gala dress. Isabela answered wearing nothing but a t-shirt and underwear.

“Hawke, you’ve caught me at a bad time,” she said. “Can it wait?”

“I just need Merrill to take in this dress for me,” Hawke said. “It’s, like, a size too big.”

“I’ll make sure she gets it,” Isabela said, closing the door on Hawke.

The second thing she did was stop by the Hanged Man, even though it was barely five in the afternoon. The rest of the crew hadn’t gotten there yet so Hawke was left forlorn and alone at their table, drinking her customary beer.

“Whatcha drinking, sweet cheeks?”

She whirled around to see who the hell had just called her sweet cheeks. It was a middle-aged white guy with a pinched smile and a lecherous gleam in his eye.

“The tears of my enemies,” she said flippantly, turning back around to make it clear she wasn’t interested.

“I know something else you can drink,” he said, leaning in and putting his arm on the table next to her to block her exit.

“You realize that line doesn’t even make sense, right?” she said. “Like, what exactly would I be drinking?”

“You got a smart mouth,” he said, his mouth twisting into a frown. “You know what happens to people with smart mouths?”

“If their mouth is that smart, I guess it goes to college.”

“Hawke, is this man bothering you?” Fenris asked from behind the man. The man turned around and saw the elf and momentarily paused, as if evaluating whether it was worth picking a fight.

“Yes,” Hawke said, surprised. “He was just leaving, though, wasn’t he?”

“Bloody elves,” the man grumbling, removing his hand from the table and skulking off.

Fenris walked up to the table, his brow knitted.

“Well, he was annoying,” Hawke said. “Thanks for the rescue.”

“It was no problem,” Fenris said. Then, with a smile- “I could tear out his heart, if you prefer.”

Hawke laughed. “I might take you up on that.” Somehow, she didn’t doubt that he could do it. They lapsed back into silence. Hawke wanted to say something but wasn’t sure where to start.

“So… how’s it going at the shelter?” she asked. Fenris shrugged.

“Well enough,” he said. “We are just preparing for the gala.”

“Oh, me too,” Hawke said. “I’m getting Merrill to take my dress in.”

“Oh, you decided to take the ticket?” Fenris asked. 

“Yes,” Hawke responded. Did he not want her to? Fenris nodded and looked away from her, suddenly contemplating the floorboards. They didn’t say anything until Isabela and Merrill finally walked in, chatting about something in a very animated way.

“Bela!” Hawke shouted, raising her glass in a greeting. “Why haven’t I seen you bartending lately?”

“Varric moved me to the early shift,” Isabela said. “So I spend my morning, afternoon, and evening here.”

“Time well spent,” Hawke said. “Merrill, how’s your dissertation coming?”

“Terrible,” the small elf said mournfully. “I’m stuck on a problem and my advisor isn’t very happy with me.”

“Well, you can always drink your problems away here,” Hawke said. “Come sit down. Did you get a chance to look at my dress?”

“Ooh, yes!” Merrill said, a sparkle in her eye. “It’s very pretty, Hawke! Though I need you to come by so I can measure you for the adjustments.”

“You can measure me any day, sweet thing,” Isabela said, patting Merrill’s shoulder. “So we aren’t invited to this charity gala you’ve been talking about?”

“Would you even want to go?” Hawke asked with a grin.

“Well, I’d like the free food. But it does sound rather stuffy.”

They chatted for a while, drinks quickly disappearing. Hawke noticed that Fenris wasn’t speaking and seemed to be staring at his shoes with a frown for most of the night.

Anders came in and was joyfully greeted by all but Fenris. He looked haggard.

“I was up all night working on my manifesto,” he said. “I tried putting it up on my blog but it keeps getting taken down. This is ridiculous. It’s oppression and we shouldn’t stand for it.” This seemed to get Fenris’ attention.

“What you propose- full freedom for mages to do magic as they wish- is foolish,” Fenris said. “Magic is dangerous.”

“So it’s foolish to not want to be imprisoned for healing somebody, or doing a bit of minor mending magic?” Anders asked, indignant. Hawke wasn’t sure if she was seeing things, but he seemed to be _glowing_. _Only Fenris is supposed to glow_ , was her first thought.

“What we need is freedom,” Anders said. “The system of oppression in this city is widespread and pervasive.”

“You know nothing of oppression,” Fenris snarled. Anders began to glow even brighter, and it was turning… blue? Now Isabela and Merrill were exchanging looks. _Seriously, what the hell is going on with Anders?_ she thought.

“Anders, not to get too personal… but why are you glowing?” Hawke asked.

It stopped as quickly as it started. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Anders said, his voice strained.

_Well, that certainly won’t come back to bite us in the ass_ , Hawke thought.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so I'm only... *checks notes* a couple of months late on this one. My bad. I swear it's not abandoned (assuming anyone's actually reading this far).

_For once, I’m the one calling the rideshare,_ Hawke thought, getting into the car. She was careful to pull her dress out of the way of the door. She was dressed nicely for the first time in years- since her own senior prom, probably. The dress fit properly, thanks to Merrill, and brought out the blue in her eyes.

As she pulled up to the charity gala, her stomach flipped. It would just be her, Fenris, Lirene, and a bunch of rich Kirkwallers with nothing better to do on a Friday night than spend their money. It was held in a beautiful, intimidating stone building. As she walked in, her eyes had to adjust as the place was… well, dazzling. Literally dazzling. Everyone was dressed very formally, and most of the women had on jewelry that was probably worth her entire life savings.

She saw Fenris across the room, looking broody in a corner alone, and her stomach flipped again. _Well, he’s the only one here that I know,_ she thought. _Might as well go awkwardly stand by him_. She walked up to Fenris, pulling a glass of champagne off a waiter’s tray on her way. _I’ve gotta be boozed up for this_.

Fenris nodded at her. She could see his Adam’s apple jump as he swallowed. “You look very nice,” he said.

“You too,” Hawke said. And he did. He was dressed in full black tie, and it fit _very_ well, in Hawke’s opinion. “Have you seen Lirene yet?” she asked.

“No, I think she went with the mayor. He wants her to make a speech, I believe,” Fenris said.

_So it’s just us, then,_ she thought. She looked around to see if there was anything to do besides drink. There was the silent auction, which was probably (definitely) out of her price range, a station with pictures of the shelter and some of its success stories, and a dancefloor, but that was it. _This is gonna be a fun night_ , she thought.

* * *

Fenris stood there, unsure what to do or say. Hawke was only about a foot away, also looking bemused. He felt he should make some sort of conversation.

“How is your family?” he asked. Hawke grinned.

“Oh, they’re great! Gamlen’s doing his best to put mother and Carver on the streets with his gambling. Carver’s really enjoying the templars, which doesn’t surprise me. And my mother is still upset that I moved in with ‘that strange elf,’ as she puts it. Not that I think you’re especially strange.” Hawke blushed lightly after she said this and looked at her shoes.

“So everyone is well?” he said, grappling for something safe to talk about.

“Yep, they’re doing just fine without me,” Hawke said with a twinge of bitterness in her tone. She looked Fenris in the eyes and they made eye contact for just a beat too long.

“Good,” he said. He grew quiet again. Just then a man in a slightly ill-fitted tux came up to Hawke. He had sandy hair with a cowlick and a smile on his face.

“Look, my friends are demanding that I ask you to dance,” he said. Hawke arched her eyebrows. “Oh, shit, I’ve gone about this all wrong. Would you, ah, like to dance with me?”

“Only if you can put up with your feet being stepped on,” Hawke said with a smile. The man laughed. “My name is Hawke,” she said.

“Oh, I haven’t even introduced myself! I’m Alistair.”

“What brings you here, Alistair?” Hawke asked. He looked sheepish.

“I’m here with my…. Uncle, I suppose,” he said. “Well, we’re not related by blood. Not that it matters. We’re visiting from Ferelden and Mayor Dumar insisted on showing us around.”

“Who’s your uncle?” Hawke asked, sounding intrigued. Alistair looked even more bashful at this.

“Eamon?” he said. “He’s a senator in Ferelden. But enough about me. Are you two here together?” he asked, nodding towards Fenris. Fenris frowned at this.

“No, we’re not,” Hawke answered. Fenris felt a little disappointed despite himself. “I was invited here by the owner of the refugee shelter they’re raising money for. I just came for the free food.”

“I came for the cheeses,” Alistair said with a laugh. “I love a good cheese platter.”

“A man after my own heart,” Hawke said with a grin. “I’m Ferelden too, actually. Would you like to dance? I’d hate to disappoint your friends.” She locked arms with Alistair, smiling, and walked onto the dancefloor. _I have no right to feel jealous_ , Fenris thought, watching them walk away. His frown deepened as he watched them awkwardly try to dance, stepping on each other and laughing the whole time.

Fenris’ chest felt like it was constricting, watching them. He tried to imagine being the one to dance with Hawke but couldn’t picture it. He didn’t even know how to dance, first of all, and second of all she wouldn’t even want to. Not after how he’d behaved.

He watched them with a growing feeling of dread. He didn’t know what he had expected. That Hawke would wait for him? No. She would move on with someone else, eventually, and he would be left to watch her. _Another reason to move out sooner rather than later_ , he thought.

Then the mayor came onstage and a hush fell over the room. From what Fenris could gather in his short time in Kirkwall was that Mayor Dumar was not particularly liked in many quarters, especially for all his toadying to the templars. Nonetheless, people waited to hear what he was going to say.

“Thank you all for coming tonight,” he said. “We’re hosting this gala to benefit the Kirkwall Refugee Shelter. I could not think of a better cause. Tonight we’ll also hear a few words from Lirene, the woman who runs the shelter-“

Suddenly, a shot rang out from the audience. The mayor crumpled on the stage. People screamed and ran for the exits, blocking the doors as they jockeyed to leave. Fenris swiveled to the see where the shot came from and saw a man holding a gun surreptitiously put it under his jacket, then try to run out the exits with the crowd. Fenris ran over, not thinking, trying to grab him before he could leave.

Then he looked up and Hawke was on stage, her hands on the mayor. Were her hands glowing? Was she using healing magic? In front of this crowd? He shook his head and ran to the man, tackling him before the security could arrive from the front doors where they were stationed. The man struggled and tried to reach for his gun again, but Fenris’ training as a personal bodyguard took over and he grappled him into a position where he could not move. The man leered at him. He had long dark hair and a broad smile.

“You might get me, but you’ll never get all of us,” he sneered. Fenris punched him in the face to make him shut up. He wasn’t in the mood for a villain monologue. Then security was by his side, picking the man up and handcuffing him. He looked around and saw that Hawke was right next to him, hands still glowing with magic.

“Are you okay?” she asked, clearly anxious. “Did he get you anywhere?”

“I am fine,” Fenris said. The mayor stood up with a groan and locked eyes with Hawke.

“You,” he said. “You helped me.” Hawke’s eyes went blank and Fenris could tell she had no idea what to expect. Would he turn her in to the templars?

The mayor just nodded at her and left the stage, swarmed by the remaining security officers. Hawke breathed a sigh of relief. Fenris noticed that there was some blood on her dress and frowned.

“Hawke, are you injured?” he asked. She looked down at the blood, startled.

“Oh, no!” she said. “This was the mayor’s. Dammit, I’m never going to be able to get this stain out.”

Then the police arrived, taking away the perpetrator. Hawke spotted Aveline in the crowd and waved her over.

“Hawke, why are you always involved when there’s trouble?” Aveline asked. “And why is your dress covered in blood? Do you need medical attention?”

“It’s not mine,” Hawke said by way of explanation. Aveline shook her head.

“You two, I’m going to need your statements,” Aveline said. “Especially you, Fenris. The security team said you were the one who subdued the shooter.”

“It was nothing,” Fenris said. Hawke went with Aveline first to give her statement about what happened. When it was Fenris’ turn, he explained everything as factually as he could—leaving out the part about Hawke using healing magic on the mayor.

“Fenris, I’ve heard from other people that it looked like Hawke used magic,” Aveline said. “You can tell me if she did.”

“I do not wish to lie to you,” he said. “But… I cannot say.” Aveline sighed.

“Well, your loyalty is commendable, at least.” _My loyal pet_ , Danarius’ voice rang through his head. He shook his head as if to rid himself of the thought. “Is everything alright?” Aveline asked, concerned.

“Yes, I am fine,” he said brusquely.

“All right. You two can go. I might need to call you into the station for more details at some point,” she said. She hesitated for a moment before continuing. “So, are you two…”

“No,” Fenris said.

“It’s none of my business anyway,” Aveline said. “Just… take care of Hawke. Her family helped me a lot when we first moved here from Ferelden.”

With that, she left to go back to the other officers. Fenris looked at Hawke, who looked a little lost.

“Would you like a ride home?” he said.

“Yes, please,” Hawke said, looking relieved.

The ride home was mostly silent. By the time they got to the apartment, they were carefully chatting about what happened. The attempted murder of the mayor seemed to have broken the dam of awkwardness that lay between them. Bonding through trauma, he supposed. He kept thinking about Hawke’s rush to heal the mayor’s wound and wondered whether the mayor would be alive without her.

“I hope Dumar’s okay,” Hawke said as they got out of the car. “I don’t think that wound was fatal, but you never know.”

“It will be in the news tomorrow, most likely,” Fenris said.

“I wonder why that guy tried to shoot him,” Hawke said. “I mean, he’s not especially popular, but that’s a hell of a way to make your opinion known.”

“The shooter… he said something like ‘you will never catch all of us.’ It sounds like a network of people,” Fenris said. “We should be more careful now, going out.”

“I’m not going to let that shooter scare me into staying home all day,” Hawke said. “I mean, I stay home all day anyway, but that’s not the point.”

“You stay home because job hunting is difficult,” Fenris pointed out. Hawke stared at him for a second, looking serious for once.

“I know I’m stopping you from moving out,” Hawke said. “I just want to say I really appreciate you waiting until I find a new job.” She hesitated, started to speak, then seemed to think better of it and stopped.

“It is nothing,” Fenris said. “I would not abandon you…and Orana,” he added hastily. 

“Orana’s too cute to be abandoned anyway,” Hawke said with a grin. “She’s really coming along with her reading!”

They stood outside while Fenris wrestled with deciding to say what he was thinking or not.

“I do not read very well either,” he admitted. Hawke’s eyes widened and he prepared for her to be judgmental.

“You should join us when I’m helping her!” Hawke said. “Or any other time you’re home. I’ve got nothing going on.”

“I would like that,” Fenris said. Hawke laughed.

“I’m going to have to buy more books,” she said. “All we have are Varric’s books and Bela’s trashy romance novels. Not exactly high literature. I could teach you with the romance novels, though- you could learn from the women’s heaving bosoms and the men’s throbbing-“

“I get the point,” Fenris said drily. Hawke grinned at him. They made eye contact for another uncomfortable second before Hawke spoke again.

“Look, if the templars come for me…” she said, then hesitated. Her eyebrows were knit together. Fenris had never seen her look so pensive before. “We should probably get upstairs,” she said finally. “It’s cold out here.”

Fenris followed Hawke upstairs and into the apartment, where Orana was already in bed. They stood in the living room silently for a moment before Fenris mumbled a “goodnight” and went into his room. Before he fell asleep, he kept thinking about how Hawke had rushed onstage to heal the mayor, consequences be damned. He could not condone the public use of magic, but he admired her impulse to help.

* * *

Hawke woke up late the next morning feeling refreshed for once. She had fallen asleep worrying over whether the mayor or someone would turn her in to the templars, but no one had come knocking yet. Fenris was sitting on the other couch, watching the news with a pensive look on his face. ~~~~

“We get the news channel without cable?” Hawke said. “I knew paying for cable was a scam.”

“Have you heard any of it?” Fenris asked. Hawke shook her head. “The mayor was killed at the hospital last night,” Fenris said. “No one is sure how- he had a security team assigned to him all night, and they somehow failed.”

“Holy shit,” Hawke said. “Do they know who did it?”

“Someone from the same network as the shooter last night, most likely,” Fenris said. He had a distant look in his eye. “The templars are blaming a mage conspiracy and have declared martial law in the absence of the mayor- Captain Meredith has been granted emergency powers. They… want to keep a roll of every known mage.”

“Well, that can’t be good,” Hawke said. “I’m sure that list will only be used for the best of reasons.”

“Perhaps they mean well,” Fenris said, frowning. “Magic is dangerous when left unchecked.”

“Do they even know if it was a mage who did it?” Hawke said. Fenris shook his head.

“It is only speculation.”

“I’m sure Carver has already signed me up, so you won’t have to,” Hawke quipped, her mind reeling with the news. Fenris just looked at her with his large green eyes.

“I would not,” he said in a low voice. “Hawke, I would not turn you in.”

“You won’t have to, my _tit_ of a brother was probably the first in line,” Hawke said. “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.” She got up and began pacing. “Anders is involved with mage rights activists. Maybe he knows something.” 

“If that _mage_ knows who planned to destabilize the entire city, I will disembowel him personally,” Fenris said, his voice almost a snarl.

“Save the disemboweling for now,” Hawke said. “Anders is harmless, he just blogs about it a lot.” Fenris just grunted and turned back to the TV. Hawke was still trying to process the news. Registration certainly didn’t sound good. To her, it sounded like the first step towards something foreboding. Hawke had never been very politically active, but she could see where Anders was coming from, and she agreed with him on a lot of points. Mage registration sounded like something he had been preaching about, but she had never thought anything like that would happen in Kirkwall.

Meredith was known for taking her duties as a templar seriously. Very, very seriously.

“I’m going to call Anders,” Hawke said, getting up to go outside. She walked out of the apartment and clicked on Anders’ name in her phone. It went to voicemail- he must have been working again.

“Anders, have you heard the news? Shit’s crazy. Anyway, it’s me, Hawke. Call me back.” She hung up. She paced around the hallway, worrying about the news, when her phone rang. It was her brother.

“Sister,” he said as a greeting. His voice was flat.

“Brother,” Hawke said mockingly. “Checked the news yet today?” He sighed.

“Victoria, I haven’t signed you up yet,” Carver said, sounding weary. “But I highly recommend that you do. It’s important for the sake of the city. These mage terrorists will stop at nothing to gain control.”

“Oh, now we’re dealing with _magic_ terrorists? Not just your garden variety terrorist?”

“That’s what the Captain says,” Carver said. “I heard you were there at that gala last night. And what you did.” He paused. “That was…unwise.”

“You don’t need to lecture me. Last I checked, I might have saved his life. Not that it mattered in the end.”

“The man just died, Tori. Have some respect.”

“Did you call me just to scold me, or was that just an added bonus?” Hawke said, starting to grow angry. Carver always knew how best to push her buttons.

“I was just calling to say I haven’t signed you up yet. Just so you know. Some of us are still loyal to our family. And Mom wants you to call her.”

“The phone lines work both ways, last I checked.”

“Maker’s breath, Tori. Just call mum. Bye.” And with that, Carver hung up. Hawke sighed and leaned against the doorway. Maybe Anders had a point- maybe she should get more involved. Hawke had a sense that the mage registration wouldn’t be the last of the steps Meredith would take to root out the perpetrator, whether they were a mage or not.

* * *

Despite all the uncertainty in the city, Fenris could only think about one thing. Varania. The name was stuck in his head like a song. His sister, he was pretty sure. _His sister_. It felt so odd to think of him having any family. Should he look her up? He wondered what she was doing now. Was she still a slave as well?

Would she even want to hear from him? Perhaps she did not remember him, either. Fenris frowned thinking about it. _Then again_ , a little voice in his head said, _what would it hurt to try to contact her?_ Maybe she’d be the key to the mystery of his missing memories.


End file.
